


Prelude IV: Here's The Season ...

by mad_martha



Series: The Preludes Series [4]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: AU, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder and Sam finally get introduced to the Scully family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude IV: Here's The Season ...

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted circa Christmas 1999.

Fox Mulder was up to his knees in it again; although on this occasion 'it' was merely tiring and mildly depressing, not boring, annoying, dangerous or downright terrifying.

   Which made a change.

   On this particular occasion 'it' was not the doings of liver-eating mutants, aliens both seen and unseen, Government conspiracies, or even the serial killers of his FBI past which now and then rendered his nights sleepless.  'It' on this occasion was newspaper, and lots of it.

   He paused in his labours for a moment, mentally calculating how much more he had to do, and smiled suddenly as his two-year-old son solemnly dragged a very large and much-abused teddy-bear into the room and struggled to put it into a packing crate which was nearly as big as he was.

   "Not that one, Sam - your stuff's in the other room."

   Sam gave up on the crate and turned to give his father a disgusted look.  He huffed a melodramatic sigh and dragged the teddy out of the room again.  Mulder grinned, and turned back to his own crate.  The bulk of the packing was done, but the study was taking almost more time than the rest of the house entirely.  He wondered absently how his grandfather had managed to collect so much stuff, and grabbed up another couple of sheets of newspaper.

   The doorbell interrupted him, and the newspaper went flying as he made a dive to get to the front door before Sam did.  The little boy had recently discovered he could reach the lock and Mulder hadn't got around to putting a more secure latch higher up yet.  Nothing entertained Sam so much these days as using the telephone and answering the doorbell.

   "I get it!"

   "Sam - !"  Mulder tripped on the abandoned teddy in the hallway and only just caught himself on the doorframe.

   Sam stretched up on his toes and nimbly managed both lock and doorhandle, pulling the door open a few inches and peering around it.  "Yeeeeesss?"

   Mulder had to swallow a laugh at the exaggerated voice, but got hold of the boy's hand very firmly and drew him away from the door.  He pulled it open a little further, and met the amused gaze of Dana Scully.  His face broke into a smile.  "Hi!  I wasn't expecting to see you."  He pulled the door open completely and let her in.  "I called you the other day, but you were out of town."

  "I was in Atlantic City - "

   "Hold on a minute, Scully."  Mulder shut the door, and turned to his son sharply.  "What have I told you about opening the door?"

   Sam backed up against the wall, his mouth going into instant droop mode.  He turned heart-melting puppy eyes on his father, only to meet a pair of nearly identical hazel orbs gazing back at him unbendingly.

   "What have I told you?" Mulder repeated.

   Having lost the first round, Sam resorted to a chin wobble.  Mulder crouched down in front of him.  "I said not to open the door, didn't I?  Not everyone behind it is nice like Dana - you could open it and let someone really bad in.  Couldn't you?"

   The little boy nodded dolefully and a finger crept into his mouth.  His father took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake.  "You don't open the door, okay?  You wait for Daddy to come."

   He stood up and gave Sam a little push.  "Go on - go put Bear in your box before he gets lost."

  He watched as the boy scampered away, then turned to Scully with a rueful look.  "He'll be the death of me yet."

   Although her face was suitably grave, her eyes were mischievous.  "I had no idea you could be such a ... hard taskmaster, Mulder."

  He didn't miss the deliberate emphasis.  "Oh no?  Don't tempt me to show you so early in the day."  He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her.

   But Scully only allowed the contact for a few seconds, before gently pushing him away again.  "Where's your mom?" she demanded breathlessly.

   Mulder choked on a laugh and released her, leading the way into the study.  "She moved out nearly a week ago.  That's why I was calling you."

   Scully stopped short in the doorway and stared at the bare walls, scattered newspaper and packing crates.  "What in the world - ?"

   "Fast job, huh?"  He stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips, looking at the self-made devastation.  "Sam and I have to be out by Friday."

   "But what happened?"

   "Mom and I failed to reconcile our differences, so we had an emotional meeting with my Uncle Max and the upshot is - she's gone back to live with Aunt Esther in Chilmark, and I've got Sam and me an apartment in Alexandria.  Max wants to put this place up for rental, so I've got to clear all my belongings and the stuff left by my grandparents.  Most of the furniture's going into storage."

   Scully was stunned.  "When did all this happen?"

   "Last Monday.  I spent most of the evening with Max, trying to sort it all out."

   "Well, that explains why I couldn't reach you to tell you I was going out of town.

   "Yeah - I called you Tuesday morning and got your answering machine."  Mulder looked at her curiously.  "What took you to Atlantic City?"

   Scully took her jacket off and slung it over the nearest chair, and picked up a sheet of paper.  "Reports of a Neanderthal killing a father of three on the highway after his car broke down.  Come on, I'll give you a hand here."

   Mulder obediently opened the glass-fronted cupboard where his grandfather's prized Menorah was kept, but wasn't distracted.  "A Neanderthal?  Seriously?"

   "The fabled Jersey Devil no less."

   "And was it?"

   "Hard to say.  The local Ranger shot the first suspected culprit, but the body went missing before I could look at it.  The second one was a woman, though, in her early thirties at most.  Led us quite a chase, but the police finally shot her in the woods and when I examined the body, there was human bone in her digestive tract.  An anthropologist at the Smithsonian is still trying to decide what exactly she was, but my guess is she was a normal modern human."

   Mulder handed her a small pile of prayer books, his brow furrowed.  "Any chance there were others?"

   Scully hesitated.  "Examination of the woman's uterus would seem to suggest she'd given birth at least once, but that's all I know.  We searched those woods for hours and didn't see any sign of a lair at all.  I've closed the file for now."

   He nodded, giving her a small smile.  "Good stuff, huh?"

   She smiled back.  "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

   "So what's next on the agenda?"

   "I don't know."  Scully helped him wrap the Menorah carefully, and then they stored it next to the embroidered bag containing his grandfather's tallit.  "That one came from Skinner, but he didn't hand me anything else when I gave him my report, so I guess I'll be looking through the files again on Monday."

   "Got a few days off?" he asked a little wistfully.

   "I could take a couple - why, you want help moving into your new place?"

   "It'd be nice."

   There was an awkward pause, then Scully said in a different, quieter voice: "So what really happened, Mulder?"

   He shrugged, knowing what she was referring to but not wanting to go into it.  The details of what had caused the rift between him and his mother were too difficult to discuss, at least at present.  "Oh, stuff ... the usual, you know."

   "Was it because of me?"

   Mulder gave her a startled look, then laughed softly.  "Scully, she only met you once, and that was business!"

   "I know," Scully said steadily, watching his face, "but I'm not stupid, Mulder.  I know she wasn't happy about us."

   "It wasn't that.  Well," he amended, recalling something his mother had said and wincing inwardly, "not only that.  Mostly it was other stuff - stuff about Sam, stuff about me.  The same kind of things we've been fighting about for years.  Scully - Mom and me, we've never really had a lot to say to each other.  I hardly ever saw her when I was a kid, and after ... after Samantha died, she spent most of her time in la-la land, thanks to the doctor giving her enough pills to keep a regiment quiet.  It's just the way it is with us."  He gave her a searching look.  "Look, you mustn't think all of this is because of you.  Maybe me seeing you didn't help, but it was waiting to happen right from when I first moved in with her."

   Scully tried to smile but still looked a little depressed.  "All the same, Mulder - "

   "No, seriously - don't start imagining it's some kind of Greek tragedy!  I'd have had to move out sooner or later, it's just happened a little more abruptly than I expected.  We ... had a row about Sam.  There's been friction about him for some time, and I honestly think it's better we move away from her now, before he gets old enough for it to be a major trauma for him."  Mulder brought out a beautifully engraved Passover seder plate and gave that to Scully to wrap.  She was neater with the piles of tissue and newspaper than he was.

   They continued packing in companionable silence.  After a while, Scully screwed up the courage to ask a question, which had been bugging her for a long time.  "Mulder, where's your father these days?"

   "Martha's Vineyard," he answered shortly.  "We had a house there."

   "What did he do?  For a living, I mean."

   "Worked for the State Department - I don't know exactly what he did there."  Mulder forced himself to try and loosen up over the questions.  It was perfectly natural for Scully to ask, after all, but somehow it would have been easier to talk about his ex-wife.  "We didn't see him a lot, and when we did see him, he always had other men with him, people he worked with.  It used to bug Mom a lot, especially when they turned up at the summerhouse during vacations.  He drank a lot even then, and they'd have business - he didn't have much time for Samantha and me.  Then when Samantha got killed, Mom packed up and we went to live with my grandparents and Aunt Esther."

   "What - you lived here?"  Scully looked around her.

  1. My other grandparents lived in Chilmark and I can't recall ever meeting them."



   Scully debated how to put the next question.  "You told me once that your father's given name was William."

   Mulder looked up in surprise at the apparent non sequitur.  "Yes?"

   She smiled.  "I've been curious about how you came to have his name.  I mean, you're Jewish and if I remember my lessons at school, it's against custom to give a child the name of a living relative."

   Mulder smiled.  "It is, but I'm only half Jewish.  Dad was a lapsed Presbyterian or something like that  ....  Actually, I don't know how my mom came to marry him, because my grandparents were fairly strict and traditional - not Orthodox, but going that way.  No way did they approve of him ...."  He paused, his expression turning inwards for a moment.  "Thinking back, I think there were a lot of fights when I was small, especially about how Sam and I were brought up.  I wasn't circumcised until I was seven or eight, and I don't think Dad was present even then.  But Mom wanted it, because she didn't want to completely lose contact with her family.  Must have been one of the few times she ever stood up to him," he mused.  "Most of the time he got his way, and he never let her forget that _he_ wasn't Jewish and he didn't want to know about that side of our heritage."

   Scully looked at him, fascinated.  "Why didn't your mother make a fuss?  I thought she was very devout."

   "She is - now.  She only really started getting that way after Samantha was born, though, and after Sam died and she had all the fuss of the divorce straight after, I guess it was something for her to hang onto.  Up until then, she only kept the traditions to please Grandpa." 

   Mulder went back to his excavation of the cupboards, a little uncomfortable with the memories this was stirring up.  This conversation with Scully reminded him of the ruthless questioning he'd put his maternal grandfather through after he'd finally been circumcised and introduced to the synagogue.  It had all been fascinating to him back then, and a welcome distraction from the discord at home.  They'd stayed here in this house, he and Samantha, for a period of nearly six months at one point.  He remembered the way his grandmother had clung to him and how his grandfather tried not to weep when they had to go home to Chilmark again.

   He hadn't really understood why at the time - too many nuances of his parents' relationship were beyond a child's understanding and didn't make sense until he was in his teens, after his grandfather had successfully sued for custody of him.

   "Mulder?"

   He started, and turned to see Scully staring at him anxiously.  He managed a smile.  "Sorry.  Just remembering something ...."

   "Bad?" she asked softly.

   Mulder waggled one hand in the air.  "So-so.  There's some stuff from back when I was a kid that's ... kind of uncomfortable, Scully.  After the divorce ... well.  My dad was a drunk, my mom was spaced out for most of the time, and her parents were old.  So I guess I got out of hand for a while.  I ended up living here until I went to college."

   Scully studied the look on his face and decided that the subject should be dropped for now, fascinating as it was to her.  "That's where you met Phoebe, isn't it?" she smiled.

   "Yeah.  She had dual nationality - her father was a British diplomat but her mother was a US citizen and Phoebe was born here.  Hence her coming to live here in the end and joining the Bureau."  He put a couple of books in the crate, and gave her a quizzical look.  "Scully, all this is old history.  It's kind of late to be vetting me, isn't it?"

   She chuckled.  "I'm not trying to check your pedigree, Mulder, I'm just curious.  I don't know so much about you really."

   "Hm - I could say the same thing."

   Scully had been waiting for an opportunity like this.  "Well there's a remedy for that.  Both my brothers are home for Christmas, so the whole family's together.  Come and meet them."

   Silence.

   She looked up and saw a look of concern on his face.  "What?"

   "Scully, does your family know you're seeing me?" he asked uneasily.

   "My family - no.  My parents, yes.  They'd like to meet you, and Sam."

   He ran a hand over his hair and tried to think of an inoffensive way to phrase the next question.  There wasn't one.  "Do they - do they know I'm Jewish?"

   That got him the raised eyebrow.  "Yes.  Why?"

   "How do they feel about that?  I mean, I know you're Catholic and - "

   "Mulder," she interrupted firmly, "it's not an issue."

   His mouth opened and shut again as he tried to think of a way to express what he was thinking, but nothing suggested itself.  Scully watched his expression with a rather sinking feeling, and decided finally to put him out of his misery.

   "It's okay," she told him as lightly as she could.  "You don't have to come if you don't want to.  It was just a suggestion."

   Despite her best efforts, the disappointment showed through and Mulder instantly felt like the world's worst heel.  "It's not that," he said uncomfortably.  "It's just that - I don't want ..."

   "What?"

   "I don't know."  Mulder sat down on the edge of the packing crate heavily.  He risked a look at her face, and decided to be blunt.  "Look, Dana, don't take this the wrong way, but I've got a gut feeling your father won't like me.  And if that's the case, Christmas is the wrong time for me to be introduced to him - I don't want to upset him on a day when you should all be having a good time together."

   There was a pause, then Scully perched herself on a corner of the crate next to him.  "You think he won't like you because you're Jewish?"

   Well at least she didn't sound insulted.  "No.  I think there are other reasons he won't like me, and that will just make things worse."

   "What other reasons?"

   Mulder had to smile slightly.  "From things you've said to me, I've come to the conclusion that your father and I have radically different world-views."

   Scully's brow furrowed.  "That wouldn't annoy him, Mulder.  What _might_ annoy him was if you didn't stand up to him for what you believed in.  He might think you're a crank for believing in aliens, but he wouldn't hold it against you.  Being Jewish won't come into it.  Besides ...."  A smile suddenly threatened.  "My sister Melissa abandoned the Catholic Church years ago and took up New Age philosophies.  After spending Christmas Day with her and her Wiccan boyfriend, Chris, trust me - Dad will be welcoming you into the family with open arms."

   Mulder let out a tiny snort of laughter and Scully's smile widened, at least partly with relief that the intense atmosphere was lightening.

   "Anyway, as for people getting upset - that's a family Christmas for you.  There's a whole pile of relatives coming, and half of them can't be in a room together without tearing each others' eyes out, so I don't know what you're worrying about."

   "Are you trying to break it to me that you have family like mine after all?"

   "Mulder, I hate to break your bubble, but everyone has _some_ family like yours.  You just ...."

   He raised a brow at her.  "I just have more so?"

   She gave him a devilish smile.  "I could say that about a number of things."

   Mulder gave her a look of mock horror.  "Agent Scully!  Not in front of the children!"

   Scully looked around and found Sam regarding her soulfully from the doorway.  "Hey, Sam!  Would you like to come have tea with me and my Mom and Dad on Christmas Day?"

   The little boy's eyes brightened immediately.  "Yeah!"

   "That's a low down trick," Mulder stated indignantly, but Scully only laughed.

XXXX

  1. His temper was a little short, which would have been unfair on her.



   It took a couple of weeks to get fully settled in, and by that time it was getting perilously close to Christmas.  Mulder viewed the coming seasonal festivities with some trepidation; during his early childhood, the period around Chanukah and Christmas had been an odd one, where his family had enjoyed a curious mixture of both festivals without actually supporting the religious aspects of either.  They had had a Christmas tree and decorations; given and received eight gifts; brought the Menorah out, but not used it.  Later, his mother had slowly begun reintroducing the Jewish celebrations, until he eventually reached adulthood and left home.  Left to himself, Mulder would never have bothered with either festival, especially during his short-lived marriage and just after.  He was himself agnostic at best; Phoebe, although also Jewish by birth, was equally uninterested in religion.  But the advent of Sam and moving back to live with his mother had brought Mulder back into contact with the religion his grandparents had tried so hard to instil in him.

   The question of exactly how to handle Chanukah was fortunately taken out of Mulder's hands.  He had been concerned for Sam's sake, for his mother had been assiduous in introducing the child into the Jewish faith properly, and he was reluctant to change that.  On the other hand, he did wonder how he was going to manage to raise Sam properly when he wasn't really a believer himself.  However, Chanukah would be spent with his cousin Annie and her family, which solved at least part of that problem.

   Christmas had also been taken care of, thanks to Scully.  But that raised the problem of a Christmas present for her.  And that meant a trip to the mall.

XXXX

   Actually, it wasn't as bad as Mulder feared, although the mall was very crowded, especially since it was a Saturday.  Wiser to Sam's tricks than Annie, he had the little boy on a set of reins which prevented him wandering more than a few steps away, and he was careful to steer a wide berth around any potential problem areas - such as large toy shops with enticing displays.  Aside from Sam's probable reaction, Mulder knew himself too well to suppose that he would be able to resist anything particularly neat.

   Only one minor hiccup occurred in this area.  Mulder was debating over a display of lockets in a jewellery shop, when a small hand tugged on his jeans, demanding attention.

   "Daddy, look at the tree!"

   The mall boasted a considerable number of very large, very brightly decorated Christmas trees, most of which they had already passed, but given how small Sam was next to most of them, Mulder supposed it wasn't unreasonable of the boy not to have taken a lot of notice yet.  He turned to look through the floor-to-ceiling shop window, preparing to admire the lights and tinsel dutifully, and clapped eyes on a whole display of artificial monstrosities out in the aisle.  It was clear why these had caught Sam's eye, though - for one thing, they were about his height, and for another, several of them were musical; the electronic jangling could be heard over the general hubbub outside.

   Mulder wondered how he'd missed hearing the 'music', even as he winced at the flashing lights and glitter.  No one could call him a man of great taste, and being colour-blind didn't help, but even he recoiled from these festive abominations.

   "No, Sam, we're not having a tree," Mulder told him firmly, and repressed a shudder.

   The small face tipped back to look up at him.  "Please, Daddy?"

   "No, Sam."

   Sam's face dropped.  "Why?"

   _Damn,_ Mulder thought ruefully, wavering.  _The one question which is nearly impossible to answer!_   "Because they're horrible," he said finally, aware even as he said it that it was a losing argument.  Sam would not understand the distinction at his age.

   The little boy's lip began to wobble.  "Please, Daddy?  Please?"

   Mulder sighed, knowing he was doomed.  He rapidly debated the question in his mind, wondering if this was a precedent he could afford to make.  It was a _Christmas_ tree, after all.  On the other hand, the tree wasn't really a Christian thing - it was one of the many pagan additions to a celebration which was questionable as a religious event in any case, date-wise.  And it was such a small thing, really, something that would make the boy happy.  They could decorate it together ....  "All right," he conceded finally.  "But just a _small_ one, Sam, okay?" 

   That matter settled, the tree was subsequently purchased and arrangements made for it to be delivered, and they continued on their way.

   In the end, they wandered the mall for nearly two hours.  They had lunch - which went off, amazingly, with none of the mishaps generally associated with Sam during meals - and he considered the problem of gifts soberly.  The trouble was that he wasn't really familiar enough yet with Scully's tastes to know what she might appreciate.  He had to be careful, because much as he might like to give her something very personal, he had a feeling she might not appreciate it - at least not in front of her family.

   Tricky.

   They set off again, Mulder carrying Sam now, as the child was tiring out.  They passed a branch of Victoria's Secret (Mulder pausing to look wistfully through the window at some silk items, which he thought would look particularly attractive on a certain redhead of his acquaintance) and carried on.  Nothing inspired him.  Finally, aware that the time was running on and he had grocery shopping to do, he headed for the exit.

   Which was when he came across one rather modest establishment selling rare books.

   Touchdown.

XXXX

   Scully presented herself at Mulder's new address three days later, tired and in a state of mild but restless depression.  The case she had been called away on had been, in her opinion, something of a red herring and was inconclusive in any event.  She felt a low-level irritation and unease in the pit of her stomach, and was desperately hoping that spending an evening with Mulder and Sam would take her mind off it.

   She was in luck.  When Mulder opened the door, she was amused to see that he was liberally splashed with water and soapsuds, and had splotches of dried poster paint here and there on his shirt and jeans. 

   "Do I need to ask what you're doing?" she laughed, as he closed the door behind her and took her coat.

   "We can do better than that - come and join in," he grinned.  He raised his voice slightly.  "Sam!  Look who's here."

   Accepting her cue - and her fate - Scully did the same.  "Hi Sam!"

   Happy shrieks and the sound of water splashing.  "DAY!"

   "Coffee?" Mulder smiled, raising his brows.

   "Sure," she smiled, and followed the sound of Sam singing through to the bathroom, while Mulder ducked into the kitchen. The apartment was very Mulder, she decided, taking a quick peep into each room on her way.  Quite plain and simple; none of the fussier, more feminine-style textiles, which was probably wise.  Fancy rugs and cushions don't last long around boisterous little boys.

   Sam was sitting in the bath, splashing the water happily and pushing a couple of small plastic boats around amid the bubbles.  He let out a shout of excitement when he saw Scully and stood up, stretching his chubby arms out to her.

   For a moment, Scully had to swallow an unexpected lump in her throat at such a simple but warming gesture.  It was just the lift her spirits needed.  She dropped to her knees beside the tub and gathered him up for a hug, uncaring of getting her clothes wet.

   "Hi Day," Sam said in her left ear, and planted a sloppy kiss on it for good measure.

   "Hi sweetie."  Scully sat back on her heels, and managed a reasonably normal laugh.  "Sam, you're all wet!  What have you and Daddy been doing today?"

   "Painting!"  Sam sat down in the water again and found one of his boats.  "Look!"

   "Oh, that's a nice blue boat - "

   "Coffee," Mulder's voice said in her ear, and his hand appeared over her shoulder holding a mug.

   "My hero!"  she told him fervently.

   Mulder perched on the edge of the bathtub.  "So, what do you think so far?" he asked, making a sweeping gesture to the apartment at large.

   Scully smiled.  "I only got a quick look, but it looks great," she told him.  "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help - "

   "That's okay, don't worry.  I was like a bear that day anyway."  Mulder took a sip of his coffee, studying her face thoughtfully.  "So what happened?"

   Scully's smile abruptly vanished, to be replaced by the slightly pinched, anxious look he'd caught on her as he opened the door.  She shrugged.  "I got pulled away on a wild goose chase."

   "Some goose chase to take you to New York for nearly three weeks.  Not an x-file, I take it?"

   She shook her head quickly.  "Nope.  I was called in, supposedly to take a look over the ME's findings in four homicides.  Skinner finally pulled me back yesterday, since the case was going nowhere and my input wasn't really required."

   Mulder was at a loss to account for her unease.  "Was it bad?" he ventured, careful not to ask for specifics in front of Sam.

   "No - no, it wasn't that."

   "So what's the problem, Scully?"

   "It's just - "  She broke off and sighed.  "It's just that I never needed to be there in the first place.  The stuff about the autopsies was a ruse to get me there."

   His brows shot up in surprise.  "By who?"

   She looked down at her hands for a moment, then up at Mulder reluctantly.  "Jack."  At his blank look, she elaborated.  "Jack Willis."

XXXX

   "Why didn't you tell me he was harassing you?" Mulder asked curtly as he slapped pans around in the kitchen. 

   "Because I knew you'd react like this," Scully muttered.  She dropped wearily into a chair by the kitchen table and watched as he yanked jars and packets out of different cupboards and slopped water around.  Sam had been put to bed nearly half an hour before, after which Mulder had demanded a full explanation.  His reaction to her reply had been predictable.  "Look, Mulder - what was the point?  He was just doing the usual Jack stuff.  He's been bugging me with phone calls and so on since we split up.  You already knew that."

   Mulder bit back a sharp retort.  He stared down at the packet of pasta quills in his hands for a moment, and struggled to get a grip on his temper.  "Hasn't it occurred to you yet that there's something not right about a guy who can bug you with phone messages three days out of every seven for a year or more?" he asked as mildly as possible.

   "Mulder - "

   "No, Scully!  This is _harassment_.  There are laws against it.  What if it doesn't stop at phone calls?"

   "Oh, don't be ridiculous!" she snapped back.  "You said it yourself - he's stuck to messages for two and a half years.  Why should he change now?"

   Mulder turned to stare at her in disbelief.  "So that makes it okay with you?"

   Scully closed her eyes briefly.  "No, of course it doesn't, but -  "

   "No 'buts'.  And in case you hadn't noticed, he just started to escalate his behaviour.  He cooked up a half-baked case to drag you out to New York!"  He flung the bag of pasta down on the counter with suppressed violence and turned to face her fully, leaning back against the edge of the sink, gripping it tightly.  "So tell me - was it just business as usual, agent to agent, while you were there, or did he pull the "let's discuss this over dinner" routine?"

   "I'm not listening to this."  Scully got to her feet and stalked through to the living room, snatching up her coat and bag angrily.

   Mulder never moved, watching her grimly.  "Fine, go," he called, as she made her way to the door, "but do me one favour, Scully.  You think about this carefully.  You think about his behaviour while you were in New York and ask yourself if it was really professional, and nothing else."

   Scully paused and turned back.  Then she walked back into the kitchen, her face rigid, and put her bag and coat down on the table.  "What do you want me to say?" she demanded.  "Yes - he took me out to dinner every night?  Do you want me to tell you he was knocking on my hotel room door after I'd gone to bed?"

   "That depends on what kind of answer you're expecting from me, doesn't it?" Mulder said quietly.  "What do you think I'm saying this for - because I'm jealous?"

   "Isn't that it?  Because it sounds like you don't trust me to have behaved myself while I was gone, Mulder."

   "If that's what you really think, then there's no point in us continuing this conversation," he told her, suddenly a little pale. 

   There was a tense silence.  Then Scully's shoulders slumped a little.  "I don't think you're jealous," she admitted, "but I do think you're over-protective."

   "If it's over-protective to worry, because a guy who can't let go of you has suddenly started blurring the boundaries between your personal and professional lives, then I'm over-protective," Mulder said steadily.  "And I refuse to apologise for that."

  1. And for another, it would look petty and vindictive."
  2. Don't let it get any further out of hand than this."



   "It won't," she told him, and slowly sat down again.  "Let's change the subject a little."

   "Okay."  Mulder went back to his pans and began sorting out the pasta again, this time a little more calmly.  "What do you want to talk about?"

   "Actually, I wanted to ask you a favour."

   He glanced over his shoulder at her, raising one brow slightly.  "Oh yeah?  And what would that be?"

   "Will you be my escort to the FBI Christmas ball?"

   There was a sharp yelp of pain as Mulder nearly scalded himself in the pan of boiling water.  "Ow!  - What?!"

   Scully smiled tiredly.  She had expected a reaction of this sort.  "You heard me.  I want you to strap yourself into a tux and trip the light fantastic with me at the Watergate Hotel on December 18th.  I need an escort, and so far Jack has been the only contender."

   Mulder gave her a look of profound unease.  "What about Jerry?"

   "He's not going - he's pleading a prior engagement, and given his behaviour when we picked up a car a couple of weeks ago from the motorpool, I'd guess it has something to do with one of the mechanics."

   Mulder rolled his eyes.  "Great.  Tell me, does that mean he's going after all?"

   Scully laughed in spite of herself.  "I hope he does!  It should makes things a little more interesting ....   Look, Mulder, if you really don't want to - "

   "It's not that, Scully."  He paused, trying to find the right words.  "Are you sure you really want the kind of excitement my appearance is likely to cause?"

   "Flattering yourself, aren't you?" she smiled.

   "Not particularly.  There's going to be a hell of a lot of brass there, and some of them aren't exactly fond of me.  Totally aside from all the 'friends' I made during my time."

   "Well, I'm not exactly popular myself these days.  I don't want to go with Jack, Mulder, and I don't want to go on my own.  And it's been hinted to me that it might be a good idea for me to attend.  So ...."

   "Okay."

   In spite of everything, Scully's eyes widened a little.  "Okay?  You mean you will?"

   He threw her a tiny grin over his shoulder, and rolled his eyes, sighing exaggeratedly.  "If I must ...."

   "Thank you," she said, relieved.  "You have no idea what a weight that is off my mind."

   "You're welcome."  Mulder tipped the pasta into the water and found another pan for the carbonara sauce.  "You've reminded me; there's been something I've been meaning to talk to you about, Scully."

   "Hmm?  What's that?"

   He glanced over his shoulder at her.  "That particular week is also Chanukah."

   "Oh!  I didn't realise it fell so close to Christmas this year."

   "Yeah, it's on time for once."  Mulder saw her bemused expression and smiled.  "Sorry - joke.  Jewish holidays are never on time.  Anyway, Sam and I will be staying with Annie's family on the Friday and Saturday, which is when the family all get together."  He paused, lighting the gas under the second pan, then turned to face her fully.  He looked uncomfortable.  "Annie wanted to invite you as well."

   "That's kind of her," Scully said, not sure what answer he was looking for.

   "I've said no."

   "Ah."

   "It's not because I don't want you there," Mulder said quickly, "because I do.  But my mother's going to be there, and I don't think it would be a good idea .... "

   Scully gave him a wry smile.  "Mulder, it's okay, I understand!"

   "And in any case, I had a better idea," he continued doggedly.  "Sam and I were going to set up the Menorah anyway, and I'm going to give him his presents here, so I thought one evening you might like to come over when we light the candles."

   "I'd love to," she smiled.

   It was his turn to look a little wry.  "You can listen to me making a complete mull of the prayers."

   "How long is it since you last did anything like this?" she asked, amused at his pensive expression.

   "Oh, I go to Annie's or Max's house almost very year for Chanukah, but I don't think I've actually gone through the service myself, out loud, since ...."  He paused, considering.  "Probably since the year I got married.  And I'm not sure why I bothered then, since you-know-who had other places she wanted to be during Chanukah."

   His tone was calm and off-hand, but Scully instinctively knew that it would be better not to touch on this subject any further, so she changed it.  "Aside from eight presents, is there anything else I should bring?"

   "Well, it's a party, so if you feel you want to cook ....  Latkes are traditional."

   She rolled her eyes.  "I'll have to ask my mother about that - I'm sure she knows how to make them!"

   Mulder grinned.  "I was kidding!  You can get the Gelt - the chocolate coins - if you like.  And I wouldn't go overboard on eight presents, Scully - we only open one each night, so one would be enough.  Sam's going to be spoiled enough when we go to Annie's.  He's the youngest kid in the family, so everyone goes mad buying him stuff."

   Scully gave this some consideration for a few minutes, then smiled.  "Okay ..."

XXXX

  Scully drummed her fingers nervously and looked up at the office clock. 

   4:30.  Late enough.

   She jumped up and locked the office door, then plunged under her desk and pulled out the huge plastic garment bag she'd hidden under there after a lightning spree at lunch-time.  She had just kicked off her shoes and was unzipping the bag, when there was a knock on the door.

   Scully swore softly, draped the bag carefully over her chair and spun it around so that the back was facing the door.  Then she unlocked it and opened up a crack.

  1. He hadn't actually made a move on her yet, but one look at his face told her he had suddenly gathered his courage.



   She hoped she was wrong.

   "Er - Agent Scully?"

   Scully pinned a neutral smile on her face.  "Hi, Pendrell - can I help you?"

  1. "I was wondering if you had a date for tonight?" he blurted out in a rush.



   _Damn._   On the other hand, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him - the poor man's face was almost as red as his hair, and that was saying something.  He had hair redder than hers.

  1. It's sweet of you to offer though."



   "Oh."  He looked crestfallen, compelling Scully to say apologetically that she was sorry.

   "You will be going, though, won't you?" she added hurriedly.  "Save one dance for me."

   _I must be crazy,_ she told herself as she closed the door on his ecstatic smile.  Then she quickly locked the door again and hurried back to her garment bag.

   The telephone rang.  Scully swore again roundly and seized the receiver.  "Scully," she barked, in her best imitation of AD Skinner.

  1. " _Colonel_ Scully," he corrected, and she sighed, relaxing.



   "Oh, it's you. "

   "Hard day, sweetness?"

   "It wouldn't be nearly so bad if people would go away and leave me alone for half an hour," she retorted blandly.  'Sweetness' indeed!

   "Ouch!  I can take a hint.  There's just one problem, though, and I'll leave you alone."

   "My nerves won't take a problem right now," she grumbled.  "I'm fending off rejected dates left, right and centre here, Mulder!  Where were they all last week, when I didn't _have_ a date?"

   "Hush!  A lady doesn't brag about her conquests," he admonished, stifling a laugh.  "Seriously, Scully, I've got a problem.  Annie can't look after Sam tonight.  Do you know any handy - and trustworthy - babysitters who can take him at a couple of hours' notice?"

   Scully paused, considering.  "Give me twenty minutes.  I think I know someone who'll look after him for us."

   "I'm on the move.  Call me back on my cell phone."

   "It had better be switched on, Mulder, or I swear I'll kneecap you!  I _know_ you and your cell phone."

   He rang off with a laugh, and she reluctantly smiled as she pressed the cut-off.  Then she dialled her mother's number.

   "Hi, Mom?  It's me ....  Dana.  Yes.  Look, Mom, could you do me an enormous favour ....?"

   Ten minutes later, Scully put the phone down with a smile.  Then she glanced up at the clock again and swore for the third time in half an hour.  She seized the garment bag again and all but tore the zip fastener open, fumbling the contents out with nervous fingers and holding it up against herself.

   The sleek black velvet draped to her ankles, and Scully wondered briefly if she'd made a big mistake.  Only one way to find out.  Wondering absently if there were any new cameras hidden in the office since she checked two days ago, she quickly stripped off her suit and blouse, and wriggled into the dress.

   There was another knock at the door. 

   "Oh, get real!" she exclaimed, annoyed.  "Who is it?"

   "Jerry," a rather bemused voice said from the other side.  "Why's the door locked?"

   Scully flipped the lock over and jerked the door open, exasperated.  "Why do you think?"

   He raised a brow at her attire.  "Nice frock."

   "Well?  Now that you're here, you can zip me up."

   He performed this service, still a little perplexed.  "Isn't it a little early to be getting changed?"

   "I wanted to make sure I hadn't made a really crucifying mistake," she admitted, and turned around to face him.  "I forgot there isn't a full length mirror here.  What do you think?"

   He studied the dress thoughtfully.  "Nice."

   Scully's brow furrowed.  "Nice?  That's it?"

   "Well, it depends who you're trying to impress, doesn't it?"

   "No comment," she sighed.  "Can you hop outside for a minute while I take it off again?"

   "It's okay, I only came to pick up that CD ROM Wilcox lent me the other day."  Jerry picked up the case from the spare desk he used when he was working with Scully, and gave her a thoughtful look.  "Is Mulder going with you?" he asked abruptly.

   "It was him or Jack Willis," she told him frankly, "or Agent Pendrell."

   Jerry snorted.  "As if Lab-boy would ever get up the courage to ask you!"

   "He did, half an hour ago."  Scully began to straighten out the garment bag.  "So, are you going?"

   "I wasn't, but if Mulder's going to be there maybe I'll go anyway, just to see the fun."

   Scully eyed him suspiciously.  "Meaning?"

   Jerry grinned at her.  "I wouldn't dream of spoiling the surprise."

XXXX

   By seven-thirty, Scully began to feel like she was setting out on a second prom, although without all the careful preparations and success of the first one.  Last minute delays at work had made her late leaving; then she'd had a sudden crisis of confidence in the shoes she'd selected, which meant she was also late leaving to go to her parents' house.  And once she got there, she discovered she'd left her jewellery box at home.  It was enough to make her want to scream, only she didn't have the time to waste.

   Under the laughing eyes of her sister Melissa, who was still staying with their parents, Scully fought flyaway hair and a satin slip that was charged with enough static to light up Manhattan.  It took their combined efforts to persuade the latter to stay in place while she slid into the black velvet dress, but once it was zipped up and draping as it should, Scully felt calmer and more confident.

   It wasn't exactly an original style, but it was a classic.  The skirt was long and narrow, with a back slit to the knee; the waist was slightly higher than usual, and the bodice, low enough to reveal a modest amount of cleavage, was cut straight across the bosom.  It was sleeveless and had broad shoulder straps that criss-crossed at the rear to midway down her back.  Revealing enough, but not too revealing.

   "You look good," Melissa approved, after some consideration.

   It was hardly an ecstatic response, but given the gulf between their tastes, Scully was relieved.  "It's not a mistake, is it?" she asked, turning from one side to the other as she frowned at herself in her mother's full-length mirror.  "I bought it in a rush."

   "Don't be silly.  Black always looks good on you - I can't imagine why, because it makes _me_ look like a nun.  It's hardly a thunderclap of daring, though, Dana - you might just as well be wearing a sign saying "FBI Official Function" on your back and be done with it."

   "Thanks," Scully sighed.  "Why don't you just come straight out with it?  You think it's boring, don't you?"

   "Well .... "  Melissa tilted her head to one side.  "What about him?  Wouldn't he prefer to see you in something a little more ... adventurous?"

   Scully glared at her sister as she picked up her hairbrush for another assault on the auburn tangle roughly pinned in the nape of her neck.  "He has a name, Missy.  And for your information, he'd probably be happy to see me wearing cling film."  She seized a tortoiseshell comb and tried to put her hair up into a respectable pleat once more.

   Melissa stifled a giggle, and snatched the comb out of her sister's fingers.  "Here - sit down, and I'll do that."  She tossed the comb on the dressing table.  "Pass me some pins, and we'll see if we can't make your hair look something, if nothing else."

   "I can't believe I forgot my earrings," Scully grumbled as she sat down.  "I could get away with just my cross, but without earrings - "

   "You can borrow a pair of mine."

   "Missy - "

   "Relax.  They're a pair of Grandma Scully's Mom gave me a couple of years ago; gold half-hoops.  I never wear them anyway, they don't suit me."

   "Thank you," her sister sighed gratefully.

XXXX

   Mulder arrived nearly fifteen minutes later, having had nearly as exasperating a day as she had.  He mentally cursed the inventor of the tuxedo, even as he unobtrusively eased his bow tie with one finger, and eyed Sam in the rear-view mirror with misgiving.  Cherubic hazel eyes peeped at him innocently from the back seat, disguising the little monster's true demonic nature, and Mulder wondered if it was fair to hand his son over to Mrs. Scully for an evening, since he was fairly certain he would never be welcome in this neighbourhood again after tonight. 

   The words "rock" and "hard place" came to mind.  With a sigh, he heaved himself out of the driver's seat and opened the rear passenger door. 

   "You behave, Sam, do you hear me?" he admonished the little boy as he unstrapped him.  "You be nice to Dana's mom, or there'll be trouble when we get home."

   Sam wasn't impressed.  "Where you goin', Daddy?"

   "I'm taking Dana to a party," Mulder sighed.  He grabbed the bag of items necessary whenever Sam stayed with a babysitter. 

   "Wan' to come _too_."

   _Here we go,_ his father thought grimly.  "You can't, kiddo - it's a grown-up party with lots of boring people.  You wouldn't enjoy it."  _Neither will I, come to that._

   "Yes, I would!  I would too!"

   "You'll enjoy it with Dana's mom much more," Mulder said persuasively.  Sam gave him a sceptical look that was so bizarrely like Scully's that he had to grin.  "Come on, Sam, please?  We'll be back later, I promise."

   Sam shut up, but his lower lip protruded in an ominous way and when his father held the door open for him to jump out, he held his arms out to be picked up instead.  Mulder tried to view this as positive, however, praying it was a sign that his son was too tired to make much of a fuss.

   _Fat chance,_ a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his mind.  He scooped the boy up and slammed the car door shut.

   _Nice house,_ he thought, as he trudged up to the door.  He glanced over the white painted brickwork and little portico with roses growing around it, and could almost hear his mother sniffing dismissively.  What the hell, though!  It looked downright homey to Mulder, with lights shining invitingly from nearly all the front windows, and when he considered the number of times he had arrived home in the past to find his house in darkness, cold and uninviting ....

   He wondered what Scully's parents were like and felt a twinge of apprehension as he mounted the steps and tapped on the glowing brass knocker.  The sight of that made him smile nostalgically, as he remembered visiting the houses of friends while he was at college in England.

   Consequently, when Margaret Scully opened the door she was treated to a sight of Mulder at his best, dressed up with unusual care, holding his son on one arm and smiling a little shyly at her.

   Not that she was ever fooled by appearances, but she was still a sucker for a good-looking family man.

   A broad smile threatened as she took in the pair of them.  "Let me guess," she teased gently, "you're here to try and sell me a set of encyclopaedias."

   Mulder's nervous smile turned into a grin.  "Got 'em out in the trunk, Ma'am, if you'll give me five minutes of your time!"

  She laughed softly.  "Fox and Sam?"

  "Mulder - it's just Mulder," he said quickly, "and _he's_ Samuel today because he's been driving me nuts ...."

   "Oh, I don't believe that!"  Mrs. Scully smiled encouragingly at Sam, who was eyeing her dubiously, and stood back so that they could come inside.  "I'm Maggie Scully, by the way.  Dana's still upstairs getting dressed, but she won't be long."

   Mulder quickly put Sam's bag down and shook her hand.  "Nice to meet you, ma'am.  Look, are you sure you don't mind keeping an eye on him?  He's being really wild today."

   "Not at all, I've been looking forward to it," she assured him, and looked at Sam, who had pulled his head out of Mulder's shoulder and was peering around him.  "Do you like cookies, my little man?"  Sam's eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically.  Maggie gave Mulder a conspiratorial smile.  "I thought you might.  We'll go and have a look in my kitchen in a minute, and see what we can find in there.  Come inside, Fox, and put him down - he must be heavy for you."

  "You get used to it," Mulder observed wryly, following her into a neat and inviting living room. 

   Five minutes later, when Melissa and Dana entered the room, they found Maggie showing Sam her ornaments in a sturdy cabinet.  Mulder was watching with interest and a certain air of relief as his son behaved impeccably.  How long it would last he didn't know, but it was a promising start.

   Then he turned and saw Scully.  His brows shot up and there was a pause.

   "Well?" she demanded finally, unnerved by his gaze.

   Mulder began to smile.  "Very nice, Scully.  _Very_ nice."

   She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, chewing this over, then a reluctant smile dawned.  "Ditto, Mulder - though your tie looks like someone tied it with their teeth."

   "Who the hell invented the bow tie anyway?" he said feelingly, running his finger around his collar again.

   Scully slapped his hand away and tugged the knot undone.  "Someone with more manual dexterity than you, obviously.  Oh, this is my sister Melissa, by the way.  Stand still."

   Mulder gave Melissa an embarrassed grin, and tried to roll his eyes around far enough to see what Sam was up to without moving his head.  Mrs. Scully was talking to the little boy in an undertone, and whatever she was saying was apparently agreeing with him because he was nodding vigorously.

   "We might actually get out of here without a fight," Mulder observed softly to Scully.

  1. Where on earth did you get a bow tie with Marvin the Martian on, though?"



   He grinned.  "That's nothing - look at this!"  He unbuttoned his jacket to display a matching cummerbund.  Scully rolled her eyes. 

   "And I was worried people might notice my earrings were missing."

   He gave her a blank look.  "But you're wearing earrings."

   "They're Missy's - I forgot my jewellery, because I left home in a hurry."

   "Oh."  For a moment he looked like he might say something else, but he obviously changed his mind.  "Okay, we'd better get moving or we'll be late."

   A small hand tugged on the skirt of Scully's dress and she looked down to find Sam giving her a solemn look.  "I's comin' too," he told her firmly.

   "Oh sweetie ...."  Scully scooped him up, and grunted a little under his weight.  "You _are_ a big boy now, aren't you?  I'm not going to be able to do this for much longer."

   He wasn't diverted.  " _Want_ to come too," he stated, a quiver appearing in his lip as he looked from her to his father and back again.

   "But I thought you were going stay and play with me?" Maggie reminded him.  "It'll be so much more fun here," she added coaxingly.

   "Our party's going to be so boring," Scully told him.  "Just grown-up people talking.  Not fun at all.  You don't want to go to that, do you?  Not really?"

   He wasn't convinced, but allowed her to hand him over to Maggie and Melissa.

   "We'll be home very soon," Mulder promised him.  "You be a good boy for me, Sam, okay?"  He ruffled his son's dark hair affectionately, and Scully leaned over to kiss him.

   "Okay, guys, see you later," she said, straightening up.

   Mrs. Scully smiled.  "You look beautiful, honey.  Have a good time."

   Scully and Mulder gave her nearly identical harassed looks.  "You've got to be kidding," the latter said wryly, making Melissa grin.

XXXX

   The initial stage of the journey, as Mulder manoeuvred to join the beltway, was performed in relative silence. Scully nervously poked at the carefully arranged knot of curls on top of her head, and Mulder tried to keep his hands occupied on the steering wheel so that they wouldn't wander to his bow tie.

   "Did you have problems with Sam tonight?" she asked finally.

   Mulder's face flashed into a rueful grin.  "Did I ever.  I held off telling him I was going out because I knew he'd have a tantrum, but he drove me nearly crazy while I was getting dressed.  He lost my watch and cufflinks, by the way.  I found a spare pair of cufflinks, but try not to ask me the time because I'm wearing an old Mickey Mouse watch someone gave me for a joke a few years ago."

   Scully let out a soft snuffle of laughter.  "Oh my God!  What a pair we are - you with a Mickey Mouse watch and me with no jewellery but a pair of borrowed earrings."

   "That reminds me ...."  Mulder suddenly pulled off the road and onto the hard shoulder. 

   "What are we stopping for?" she asked, surprised.  "Mulder, we'll be late."

   "Us, and the Director."  He switched off the engine and leaned over to rummage in the glove compartment.  After a moment he grunted with satisfaction and pulled out a small gilt plastic bag.  "I bought you a present; let's just hope it matches your sister's earrings, for tonight at least."

   "Mulder, you shouldn't have - "

   He gave her a look that shut her up and brought an unexpected blush to her cheeks.  Then he produced a small, delicately wrapped box, which he placed in her hands.  "No fuss, Scully.  Please accept it."

   She played with the tiny little bow on it for a moment.  "I should be giving _you_ presents, for agreeing to come tonight," she smiled at him.

   "You could always have gone with Agent Pendrell," he replied blandly.

   Scully gave him a startled look.  "How did you know Pendrell asked?"

   Mulder gave her a noncommittal look.  "I have my sources!"

   She relaxed.  "And are they still making use of the various devices planted weekly in my office?" she demanded, raising a brow.

   He only grinned.  "Just open the box, Scully."

   She paused a moment longer, admiring the paper and narrow satin ribbons, before carefully easing the bow off the package and delicately picking the paper undone.  It was a jewellery box the size of her palm and marked with the name of an unfamiliar shop.  Then she opened the lid.

   And drew a sharp breath.  "Mulder ...."

   It was a small, delicate, heart-shaped locket, flat and plain except for the tiniest filigree rose standing out from the surface in sharp relief.  It was made of red gold and glowed in its dark nest of jewellers' padding.

   "If you dare say anything about the expense ...." he threatened, only half-joking.

   "I've got better manners than that," she managed, "but Mulder, you shouldn't have."

   "Yes I should.  Call it a Chanukah gift if you like ....  Now, are you going to put it on?"

   "Just try stopping me."  Scully carefully unclipped her cross and curled it up in the lid of the box, then undid the clasp of the locket.  "Can you give me a hand here?"

   Mulder reached over and helped her put the locket on, fumbling with the tiny clasp awkwardly.  "Is the chain the right length?"

   "It's fine."  Scully pulled the sunshield down to look at herself in the little mirror.  The locket went nicely with the earrings, but it wouldn't have mattered if it hadn't; she would have worn it anyway.  "Mulder, it's beautiful."

   "Matches the wearer, then," he said casually, then saw her expression.  He raised a brow.  "Didn't I tell you?  You look fantastic tonight."

   Scully reflected, smiling, that Mulder was probably the only man who could make such a statement in such a tone and not only get away with it, but somehow make it seem more of a compliment than something more effusively expressed.

XXXX

   Mulder found himself surreptitiously wiping his palms against each other as Scully presented herself at the reception desk of the Watergate Hotel and got them checked against the guest list.  At any other time he would have been interested in his surroundings - how could any conspiracy theorist _not_ be? - but on this occasion, the butterflies in his stomach were overwhelming all other sensations.

   Then Scully was returning to him, a rather lopsided smile on her lips.  "Relax, Mulder!  You look like you're waiting for a hidden sniper to take a pot-shot at you."

   He snickered nervously.  "What makes you think there _isn't_ one?"

   "Lighten up!" she admonished him, and took his arm.  "Come on.  Couple of hours, and we'll be out of here again."

   "Hngh."

  1. "That one."   



   As only one door to the function room was open, Mulder managed to hang back enough to let her go first, but it was a pretty paltry delay and not nearly long enough for him to steel his nerves. 

   Then he was inside the door and face to face with -

   - Bill Patterson.

   It was true; there was _no_ God.

XXXX

   Scully had never met Patterson, the fabled head of the Investigative Sciences Unit, but she knew him by reputation - as did all agents - and his handbook on serial killers and profiling (known to the irreverent as "The Thoughts of Chairman Bill") was standard reading at the Academy. 

   She had spent long enough in Jerry Castamir's company now to know that Mulder had once been tipped as Patterson's chosen successor.  Rumour suggested that Mulder's abrupt and undignified departure from the ISU - first to the VCS, then the x-files, and finally from the Bureau entirely - had not only robbed Patterson of the one person who could have taken over from him, but also of the coveted title of Assistant Director.  Consequently he'd been unable to leave the Unit.

   Five minutes in his company served to convince Scully that rumour was way off the mark.  Personally, she doubted very much whether Patterson would ever have been able to relinquish his hold over the ISU; he was a man who not only liked to be in charge, but also liked to personally supervise every detail.  He would never have been able to tolerate anyone, even a trusted lieutenant, taking his place.  He had made the ISU; it was his creation, his baby.

   And for the same reason, he would never forgive Mulder for leaving.  In his eyes, Mulder was also his creation - the bright boy he had mentored and who had raised the ISU's reputation above the crank status it had held for years in the FBI; his chosen right-hand man and hand-picked successor.  Leaving would be an unforgivable act of ingratitude, which Patterson would take personally.

   Consequently, their meeting here tonight was a disturbing experience.

   Patterson's expression was inscrutable; he was a balding man in his late forties or early fifties, a couple of inches shorter than Mulder and reasonably fit for his age and position.  He wore small round-lensed spectacles that hid his eyes under the glare of the artificial lighting, and it was hard to tell what precisely was going on in his head when he clapped eyes on the younger man.  Mulder's own reaction was less opaque to Scully, however; he stiffened slightly, and a kind of impassive mask slid over his face.  His eyes alone betrayed him; they were wary.

   Then Patterson promptly betrayed himself by opening his mouth.  "Well, look who's here!" he said, to a much younger male agent stood at his elbow.  "If it isn't the boy-wonder himself!"

   From the uncertain look on the agent's face - Scully rummaged in her memory and came up with the name Nemhauser, someone she had met once or twice at similar functions - he'd never met Mulder and consequently didn't have a clue what his boss was referring to.  Nor did he apparently care; his eyes were riveted to Scully's bosom from the moment he saw her.

   Then Patterson's voice turned unpleasant.  "What the hell are you doing here, Mulder?  Two years ago, you told me to my face that you hoped you never set eyes on anyone from the Bureau again!"

   Scully winced, wondering if the man had been drinking too heavily already.  It seemed likely.  Things Mulder had told her in the past suggested that most of the profilers at the ISU hit the bottle at one time or another.

   "How are you, Bill?" Mulder asked levelly.

   Patterson didn't answer.  His gaze shifted to Scully, and she instantly felt as though she was wearing a see-through dress.  His eyes, suddenly visible through the thick lenses of his glasses, were like lasers.

   "You must be Agent Scully," he commented, and his lip curled slightly.

   She felt Mulder tense angrily, and pinched his arm hard.  She was used to older male agents behaving something like this, although it was rare for someone in Patterson's position to be so blatantly offensive.

   "That's right, Sir," she responded neutrally, and applied enough pressure to Mulder's arm to let him know that she wanted to move on.

   Obedient to the signal, Mulder nodded to Nemhauser and made to move off, but Patterson hadn't quite finished with him yet.

   "So, Mulder, when are you coming back?"

  1. "Bill, you know the answer to that."   He turned away, smiling faintly into Scully's concerned eyes.



   Patterson's voice followed them as they eased their way through the crowd.  "I know you, Mulder.  You _will_ come back."

   "Yeah, me and King Arthur," Mulder muttered, and Scully squeezed his arm gently.

   "Is he always like that?" she asked, in a low voice.

   "No," he sighed, "he's usually worse."

   "Come on, let's get a drink."

   By dint of smiling and gently easing past people, they managed to make it to the bar at the back of the room, where they found Jerry making inroads into the punch.  This was a rather disturbing sight for Scully; she hadn't thought her sometimes-partner was inclined to drink much, but apparently he was getting into the spirit of Christmas rather easily.

   It was worrying for Mulder too; the Jerry he'd worked with almost never touched alcohol.  They'd been alike in that regard.  "Having a good time?" he asked him, raising a brow.

   "Almost as good as you," Jerry retorted.

   "That's debatable."  Mulder eyed Jerry's companion, a younger man with the regulation haircut and overly clean appearance of someone not long out of the Academy.  He was dark-haired and fresh-faced, and straightened up when Mulder and Scully approached, waiting to be introduced.  Unlike Jerry, he wasn't trying to drink the bar dry, a point in his favour in Mulder's book.  He sincerely hoped that if he _was_ Jerry's companion for the evening, he was the one driving.

   "I don't think we've met," Scully prompted gently, when it became evident Castamir wasn't going to introduce them.

  1. Fox Mulder - I heard all about you at Quantico."



   It was the wrong thing to say, although Krycek couldn't have known it.  Mulder knew precisely what rumours had gone around the Academy about him, and he doubted very much that they'd improved in the two and a half years he'd been out of the Bureau.  He wondered how the hell Jerry had picked up with this boy scout.

   "Nothing good, I hope," he said flippantly.

   Krycek grinned with unexpected humour.  "So-so.  You were still a role model for most of the guys when I was there."

   "In that case, they're probably all in padded cells by now," Mulder observed dryly.

   "Nah, they're all here, sucking up to Patterson," Jerry said maliciously.

   "Jesus, Jerry!"  Mulder leaned over between them and signalled the bartender.  "What'll you have, Scully?"

   "Something non-alcoholic.  I don't think I want to get muddled in this crowd," she smiled.

   "After the way that guy with Patterson was looking at you, I guess not."

   "Nemhauser?"  Jerry snorted.  "He wouldn't have the spine!"

   This was said a little too loudly, getting them sidelong looks from a handful of people nearby, and Mulder looked at his former partner measuringly.  "Easy," he said, a gentle warning in his tone.

   Jerry shrugged this off irritably, but shut up.  Scully saw Krycek giving him a concerned and speculative look, and willed him to keep his own mouth shut.  She had an uncomfortable feeling that her partner would create a scene if anyone tried to persuade him to stop drinking or go home.

   This evening was turning into a nightmare rapidly; everywhere she turned it felt like there was another patch of quicksand waiting for her.  Scully briefly wished she had never suggested this to Mulder; or that she'd had the presence of mind on the way here to suggest a detour to the nearest all-night diner.  A greasy burger and fries in run-down surroundings would have been infinitely preferable to this.

   Then Mulder turned back to her, offering her a long cool glass of fruit-juice, and gave her a quirky little grin.  In spite of herself, she grinned back.  Knowing him, he was probably waiting with joyful anticipation for a full-scale brawl to break out.

   "Throw the first punch and you'll be in deep trouble," she told him, eyes sparkling, and Mulder laughed.

   "Me?  I'm a peaceful man - "

   "Yes," a cool feminine voice interrupted.  "That's what makes the chaos you create so astonishing."

   Mulder's eyes widened, and a rather sickly smile appeared on his lips.  Scully hid a smile behind her glass and turned to greet the woman who, until about eight months previously, had been her direct superior: Assistant Director Geraldine Hill, the AD in charge at Quantico.

   If Bill Patterson had been thwarted in his ambition to become AD, this was the person who had done it.  Although only Scully's height and build, Gerry Hill was a formidable personality; she was in her late forties, and had worked her way up through the ranks at the Bureau to become one of the first female SAC's, in charge of Forensics.  Nowadays she shared command of the entire Quantico facility with the military authorities who ran the Academy, and Scully knew from personal experience that she ran it with a strong grip and an eagle eye.  Her personal qualifications were similar to Scully's own, with the addition of about twenty years more experience.

   Someone like Mulder wouldn't have fazed her in the slightest, for her inability to be caught by surprise was legendary.  Scully watched, fascinated, as the woman fixed him with her razor-sharp gaze.  Predictably, he lost several inches in height and a decade off his age almost at once.

   _I hope I can do that when I'm her age,_ Scully thought admiringly.  Even more amusing was the fact that Jerry had sobered up and made himself scarce, Krycek in tow, as soon as he could.

   "So ...." AD Hill said musingly.  "Fox Mulder."  A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she stretched out one hand.  "How are you these days?  How's the little boy ... Samuel, isn't it?"

   Mulder managed to relax and produce the smile which he had used with such effect on Scully's mother less than an hour ago.

   _Charmer,_ Scully thought, amused, and turned to put her empty glass back on the bar.  A hand touched her arm, and she turned to face her boss, AD Skinner.  The brass were evidently turning out in force tonight.

   "Good evening, Agent Scully; I'm glad you could make it," he said formally.  His eyes slid over to where Mulder was standing, but he didn't seem surprised to see him.  "While your ... escort is occupied, perhaps I could borrow you for a few minutes?"

   Scully hesitated, and glanced over at Mulder; but he hadn't missed the exchange and gave her a tiny nod of encouragement.  So she sighed inwardly, and allowed Skinner to sweep her away to meet some of the other major players in the Bureau hierarchy.

XXXX

   An hour and half later Scully found herself sitting in a corner, nibbling half-heartedly at a vegetarian selection from the buffet and listening while several other female agents around her gossiped with rather less restraint than usual - which was saying something.  Truth be told, she was bored and beginning to think that she might like to go home.  She had danced once with poor nervous Pendrell, who kept tripping over her feet; once, very formally, with Skinner; and twice with Mulder, but the rest of the evening seemed to have been spent moving from one group of people to another and listening until her ears ached to anything from horror stories of impending family Christmases, to the coming year's budget constraints on various departments.  Her time spent with Mulder had been minimal, as they were each seized by old acquaintances and dragged away into the crowd.

   At least listening to gossip didn't require brainpower and diplomacy, two things which she felt she was fast running out of.  Scully fixed her eyes on Agent Henderson's face and tried to concentrate on what the woman was saying, rather than keeping a watchful eye on Mulder, where he stood half the room away and listened as a couple of older agents talked at him. 

   Henderson, a vivacious brunette wearing a red dress that left nothing to the imagination, had a rather poorly disguised personal interest in Mulder, and was trying to draw Scully out on the subject by giving her a detailed account of his personal life prior to leaving the Bureau.

   "I'm surprised you never heard about it," she was saying, stirring her Martini gently with the cocktail olive.  "But then, you were at Quantico, and I guess the rumour mill isn't so active out there.  It was quite a big deal when they finally separated.  I mean, _everyone_ knew what she'd been up to, but nobody really thought he'd go ahead and leave her.  He seemed like such a patsy where she was concerned."

   Scully grimly suppressed her reaction to this artless assessment of Mulder's character, and forced a look of interest onto her face.  Not that it mattered.  Henderson didn't need active audience participation; just an audience.

   Besides, Scully had to admit she wanted to hear this, avid and gossipy as the speaker was.  She knew relatively little about his marriage, really.

   "It was a really nice wedding," the other agent went on, judiciously.  "Not huge or over the top, but nice.  Three of the Assistant Directors went, including AD Hill and the guy before Skinner.  Jewish, of course, and a really lovely traditional ceremony, which seemed a little strange at the time because no one could say Phoebe Green was religious.  I didn't even know she _was_ Jewish."

   _Neither did I,_ Scully thought, _but it explains a few things.  And flippant though he is, I suspect there was a time when things like that meant a lot to Mulder - or else he wouldn't be so determined to raise Sam the Jewish way.  I'm willing to bet Phoebe agreed to the wedding because it looked good for her to be married to the Bureau's top profiler._   This was a rather biased opinion, and she readily admitted as much to herself, but Scully was beginning to build a picture of Mulder's ex-wife, and it wasn't a pretty one by any means.

   Henderson all but confirmed her suspicions with her next words.  "The guys she had wrapped around her finger," she said, lowering her voice slightly.  Her eyes sparkled with enjoyment as she related the story.  "I heard she even had a try at Patterson himself!  You know, career advancement.  She was desperate to get into the ISU, you know."

   Scully gave her an astonished and disbelieving look.  "Seriously?  Why the hell didn't he report her?"

   "Oh!"  The other woman shrugged.  "You know Patterson."

   "No, I don't.  I met him for the first time tonight."

   "He probably just chewed her out," Henderson said casually.  "He hates women - I mean, how many female agents are there in the ISU?"

   Scully already knew the answer to that one; none.  There was only ever a dozen profilers in the ISU at any one time, as it was.

   "Patterson believes women have one use, and trust me - being a functioning member of the FBI isn't it."

   That explained a lot.  Scully looked across at Mulder again, and wondered how on earth he had survived, working with that man for so long.  According to him, he hadn't - or at least, not well. 

   Henderson drifted onto other topics, and after five minutes or so Scully excused herself, making her way out to the Ladies' Room.  It was cooler out there - the function room was appallingly hot and stuffy, probably because of the sheer number of people crowded into it - and she paused to fan overheated cheeks, and to check if her make-up and hair were still in place.

   The bathroom was temporarily empty of clients except herself.  She looked into the long mirrors over the hand-basins and caught sight of the delicate little locket around her neck.  Smiling softly, Scully touched it, wondering what had suddenly prompted Mulder to buy her such a beautiful gift.

   "Pretty," a rough voice said, and she nearly leapt out of her skin as a tall figure stepped out of the shadows behind the swing door leading into the room.

   "Jesus, Jack!" she gasped, taking a step back and suddenly wishing that she wasn't alone in there.  "This is the Ladies' Room, for crying out loud!  What do you think you're doing?"

   "Trying to get a moment alone with you," Willis retorted.  He pushed the door shut and stepped towards her.  "You've been avoiding me all evening - "

   "No, I haven't," she said, quite truthfully.  She'd forgotten he was even going to be at the ball.  She eyed his stocky figure warily and prayed for someone, anyone, to come in and give her an excuse to get the hell out of there.

   "Yes, you have.  And you turn up with _him_ ... although I might have known!"

   _He's talking like a bad novel,_ she thought wonderingly.  _And he's drunk._   She could smell it on his breath, even from a few feet away, and felt a niggle of disgust. 

   "Did _he_ give you that?" he demanded.

   "Did who give me what?" she retorted, suddenly feeling very tired.  She didn't need this.

   " _That_ \- "  Willis reached out sharply and grabbed the locket.  "I didn't give you that."

   Scully slapped his hand hard, but daren't do anything rougher to free the little pendant in case he snapped the delicate chain.  "Strange as it may seem, Jack, I _do_ possess jewellery you didn't give me.  Let go - "

   He ignored her, roughly fumbling the tiny clasp undone so that the locket sprang open.  This angered Scully more than anything else, for she suddenly realised that she hadn't even had a chance to open the locket and see for herself what was inside.  It might be nothing at all, but that wasn't the point.  She dug her nails into the back of his hand, forcing him to release it, but not before he'd got a look and let out an exclamation that was mostly a jeer.

   "Aw, sweet!  Half-man Mulder sends his love and kisses!"

   That was it.  Before she even knew what she was doing, Scully swung her hand and gave Willis a resounding slap across the face that sent him staggering.

   And right on cue, Henderson and a bunch of her cronies walked in on them.  There was a stunned silence as six pairs of wide and intrigued eyes fixed on the scene in front of them.

   Scully didn't care.  She was tired and overwhelmingly angry, infuriated that Willis could have precipitated a scene like this.  Well, he might have started it, but she would finish it and in a way he wouldn't like.

   "I've had it with you, Jack!" she snapped, uncaring of her audience.  "I've had it with your endless phone-calls and e-mails, and phoney cases.  Quit trailing me like a bad smell and get the hell out of my life!  It's over, do you hear me?  It was over two years ago, and I'm fed up with you harassing me.  If I get one more late night call from you, just _one_ , I'm going to go straight to Skinner, and to hell with what anyone says!"

   She turned on her heel and pushed past an open-mouthed Henderson, all but running out into the lobby.

   Mulder was standing outside the function room door, looking for her.  When he saw her hurried exit from the bathroom, he quickly approached, concerned.  "Scully?"

   She discovered to her increased annoyance that she was shaking slightly.  "Mulder, I want to go home - _now_."

   He took one look at her face and nodded.  "Sure.  I'll get your coat; you go wait by the main entrance."

XXXX

   To Scully's relief, Mulder didn't ask any questions.  He retrieved the car and ushered her into it like a princess, then quickly pulled away from the hotel.  While he was occupied with that, Scully tried to wrestle her emotions back under control.  She couldn't believe that Willis had actually accosted her like that in a relatively public place, and felt irrationally angry that he'd laid hands on her locket.  Against her will, her fingers kept sneaking to it, stroking the satiny surface of the gold as though wiping away an actual stain.

   When she'd failed to say anything for almost ten minutes, Mulder shot a concerned glance at her and made a decision.  He wasn't going to deliver her back to her parents' house in this state, so he took the next left turn and drove on until he spotted somewhere promising.

   Scully started out of her reverie to discover that they were pulling up in front of an all-night diner of the kind she'd briefly fantasised about earlier.  She turned to look at him, surprised.  "Mulder - ?"

   "I don't know about you, but I could do with something a little more substantial to eat than a couple of breadsticks and a lettuce leaf," he said gently, and she was surprised to feel a hesitant smile on her lips.

   "Good idea."

   Despite it not being quite midnight, the diner was nearly half full with a varied assortment of customers.  It wasn't a particularly prepossessing place, but Scully sank into a corner booth with a feeling of intense relief and watched with a half smile as Mulder energetically divested himself of both bow tie and cummerbund, and undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt with a sigh of relief.  A tired-looking waitress appeared, and took his order of two cheeseburgers with double fries and coffee, without blinking at their unusual dress. 

   When she was gone, Mulder leaned over the table and took Scully's hands gently.  "Are you okay?" he asked.

   She looked down at their linked hands, and felt him squeeze her fingers gently.  Scully bit her lip.  "I'm fine."

   "What happened?"

   She shrugged, but the look on his face said that he wasn't going to drop it, so she sighed.  "It was Jack."

   To her surprise he merely nodded.  "I thought so.  I saw him follow you out of the room, but I was stuck by the bar with Patterson and Skinner or I'd have come after you sooner.  What happened?"

   "He made a grab for my locket - " her fingers went to it again, "so I hit him.  That's about it, really."

   Scully felt a surge of anger again as she remembered, but when she looked up she was surprised to see Mulder grinning at her.  "What?" she demanded, bewildered.

   "I hope you broke the bastard's nose," he told her, eyes dancing.

  1. "Damn!  I should have just kicked him in the balls while I had the chance."



   The choke of delighted laughter from Mulder dragged another weary chuckle out of her, and by the time their burgers arrived, she was feeling considerably better.

  1. "I was afraid he'd snap the chain."



   Mulder wiped his own hands and leaned over to take a look.  "No, it's okay ....  He didn't hurt you?"  His index finger traced a gentle line around her neck under the chain.

  1. "If you'll help me undo this ...."



   Mulder's hand gripped hers gently.  "Leave it," he told her quietly.  "Look at it when you come to us for Chanukah."

   There was another pause, longer this time, and Scully began to feel decidedly warm.  Mulder took both her hands in his and stared down at them for a moment; and when he looked up at her again, there was a look in his eyes which she'd never seen before.

   "Scully," he began awkwardly, "I know this isn't exactly the best place or time, but ...."  He hesitated, looking away for a moment, then turned back to her again, swallowing hard.  His eyes, normally a warm hazel, had turned a curious dark green in the dim light of the diner.  Scully stared into them, mesmerised, and for a moment didn't register what he said next.

   "Scully - will you marry me?"

XXXX

  1. It wasn't going to help her sleeping problem any, but she needed the bite of mocha on her tongue.



   "Pour me one as well," her mother's voice said gently and Scully started, staring up at Maggie Scully surprise.

   "Mom, what are you doing up?"

   "I heard you moving around and couldn't sleep myself." 

   Scully didn't believe the latter part of her mother's explanation in the slightest, but went to fetch a second mug anyway.  Maggie sat down at the kitchen table and watched silently for a moment as her younger daughter poured coffee and cream.

   "So," she said finally.  "You didn't get around to telling me how your evening was."

   Scully shrugged, sitting down again and picking up her mug.  "It was the usual flat, boring, FBI affair.  Poor Mulder got picked on by every agent he ever offended and Jerry got embarrassingly drunk."

   Maggie raised a brow.  "Is that why Fox looked so worn out when you both got back?"

   "I guess," Scully replied, after a tiny hesitation.

   Her mother cocked her head on one side.  "You didn't seem very happy either, sweetheart.  Was everything okay?"

   Scully forced a smile onto her lips.  "Oh, it was nothing, Mom!  I ran into Jack, that's all, and he upset me a little.  Mulder brought me home straight after - it was getting late, anyway."

   Given that the FBI Christmas Ball had been known to linger on into the early hours of the morning in the past, and that Dana and Mulder had arrived back not long after eleven, Maggie was understandably unconvinced by this explanation.  She was reluctant to be nosy, but something had to be bothering her daughter seriously for her to be losing sleep over it.

   "Nothing's wrong between you and Fox, is it?" she asked finally, deciding to be blunt.

   "No, of course not!"

   "It's just that you seemed a little ... uneasy with each other when you came in.  And you seemed to spend a long time talking to him outside before he left."

  1. "Mom, really - it's nothing."



   "I don't think it is, Dana," Maggie told her gently, "but if you really don't want to tell me, that's okay."

   "No, I just ...."  She hesitated again and looked down into her mug, tracing her fingertip lightly around the rim.  "Mom - he asked me to marry him, and I had to say no," she said in a rush.  "And he's not very happy, as you can probably guess."

   Maggie leaned back in her chair, and tried to think of something to say.  "That's - quite a surprise," she ventured finally.  "I guess you weren't expecting it?"

   "I wasn't, but I should have been," Scully admitted.  "It wasn't likely while he was still living with his mother, but now he and Sam are on their own and she's out of the picture ....  I should have realised he was beginning to think along those lines."

   "You can't know people inside out, honey."

   "No, but I know Mulder, Mom.  In retrospect, I can see that he was building up to this; he has a really old-fashioned streak, and I think having Sam has domesticated him."  Then she grinned in spite of herself.  "As much as someone as independent as Mulder _can_ be domesticated," she added ruefully.

   Maggie gave her a thoughtful smile.  "Do you really think he's independent?" she asked.  "I would have said he was rather the opposite."

   Scully gave her a wide-eyed look.  "Mulder?  You've got to be kidding!  Mom, this is the man I seem to spend large amounts of Bureau time fishing out of military custody and defending to my boss - and he doesn't even work for the Bureau himself!"

   "Yes," Maggie agreed tranquilly.  "It's nice that he knows he can rely on you like that."

   Scully shut her mouth, unsure what she could say which would counter this.

   "You haven't told me why you turned him down yet," her mother added, after a moment.

   "Lots of reasons," Scully sighed, "but mostly because I don't really know whether it would work.  I've known him for less than a year, and although I'm very fond of him - although I _think_ I love him - I don't know if it would be such a good idea to be married to him.  There are issues I don't think we've even considered yet.  It's too soon."

   _Easy to say all that now,_ she added to herself silently.  _Why wasn't it so easy to say earlier, to him?_   Trying to convince Mulder that her rejection of his proposal wasn't a total rejection of him as a person and lover had been so difficult.  His ego, so far as personal relationships was concerned, was very fragile.

   "You say there are issues you haven't considered yet - what do you mean?" she asked finally.

   "Well, there's Sam for a start," Scully said candidly.  "Much as I would love to be his stepmother, would it be the right move for him?"

   "I don't see how it could be the wrong one," Maggie protested.  "Fox may be doing a wonderful job of raising him on his own, honey, but there's going to come a time when that little boy wants to know why he doesn't have a mommy like everyone else.  There's no substitute for two parents."

   "I know - but Mulder's raising him Jewish, Mom."

   "Would that be a problem for you?"

   "No - but I don't know whether having a Catholic stepmother might be a problem for Sam later."

   "Well, I'm not convinced about that," her mother told her frankly.  "It sounds like you're looking for excuses to me."

   "Maybe I am," Scully admitted, sighing.  "I'm looking for rational excuses for irrational feelings that I can't express."

   Maggie leaned across the table and squeezed her hands gently.  "That's different, then.  If it doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel right, and there's nothing more to be said."

   Scully smiled faintly.  "It's not that it doesn't feel right, Mom - it's that it doesn't feel right _now_.  Maybe later ...."

   "Does he know about - ?"

   "No."  Scully winced.  "There's never been a good time to tell him."

   "There probably never will be, you know," Maggie said softly, sympathetically.

   "I know, but now most definitely is the wrong time.  He'll assume that's my main reason for saying no, and I'll have double the problems convincing him otherwise."

   "Well, I can't argue with that."  Maggie sat back again, and tried to think of a way to turn the topic.  Dana's face was getting a familiar pinched look of distress.  "So ... will he still be coming at Christmas?" she asked finally.

   Scully's face looked a little blank.  "You know, I hadn't thought of that," she said, after a moment.  "I'd better find out."  It occurred to her that this might disrupt Mulder's plans for Chanukah as well, and she felt a fresh wave of depression.

   "I hope they will come," her mother said softly.  "That little boy is a darling, and I wouldn't mind getting to know his father better too.  Under the circumstances."

   Dana smiled faintly, getting the message.

XXXX

   Mulder was lying on his couch, watching a Chinese movie on cable with the sound off and the subtitles on, when he heard a light knock at his door.  Surprised, he looked at his watch and was amazed to discover that it was nearly 3 am.  Who the hell ...?

   When he dragged himself to the door and opened it, he found Scully outside.  She was dressed in leggings and a huge sloppy sweater with a steel grey parka over the top, and looked apprehensive.

   As for Mulder, he wasn't sure how he felt about her being there.  They had parted on rather strained terms, despite Scully's best efforts, and the events of the evening had been the cause of him being wide-awake at such an hour.  He blinked at her uncertainly, and she bit her lip.

   "Mulder ....  Can I come in?"

   "I - of course."  He stepped back to let her pass him, then secured the door again.  They stood just inside, staring at each other.  In spite of himself, he felt a surge of warmth and affection for her, seeing the anxiety and distress in her eyes.  "It's okay, Scully," he told her.  "I'm not sitting in here with a gun to my head."

   "I know, but - "

   "Hold it a second," he interrupted.  "Come inside, and let me take your coat."

   When she walked into the living room, Scully glanced around her, unsure what to say.  Her eye fell on the TV.  "What are you watching?" she asked rather lamely, but he seemed glad of an excuse to make small talk for a moment or two.

   "Some Chinese thing - "Raise the Red Lantern"?"

   "I've seen that, it's good."

   "I don't know - there's not a lot going on.  A girl just pretended to be pregnant and got caught out, so they covered up all the lanterns outside her house."  Mulder gave her a nervous grin.  "Beats me why."

   She smiled, but it was weak.  "Mulder ...."

   "No, Scully - please."  His tone was strained.  "Let's just forget that I said anything.  It was a stupid thing to do, anyway."

   "No it wasn't."  She reached out and took his hands firmly.  "Look at me, Mulder.  Please."  He reluctantly obeyed, and she tried desperately to put all her sincerity into her face and voice.  "It wasn't stupid at all - it was the most wonderful thing you could have asked, and I so want you to realise that I didn't say no because I don't love you.  It's not that I don't want to marry you, do you understand?  It's just that now is the wrong time."

   "Why?"  Mulder tried hard not to make that sound bitter, but he genuinely didn't understand what the problem was.

   "Because nothing is settled for either of us, least of all you.  You've just had a bust-up with your mom and had to move out.  You've got Sam to consider, too, and you know he hasn't settled yet.  And as for me ...."  Scully sighed.  "I don't know where my job is going right now, and I've got an ex who seems hell-bent on making trouble.  It's not a good mix."

   He still didn't look totally convinced, though, and she wondered what she could say to make him see.  "Mulder - where do you see yourself in five years' time?"

   "I don't ...."  He looked uncomfortable.  "I don't know.  The same, I guess, except that Sam will be at school, but - "

   "Be honest with me," Scully interrupted.  "Do you still see yourself teaching at Georgetown?"

   She hit a tender spot there, because they both knew that Mulder didn't really find teaching satisfying.  He gave her a look of weary amusement.  "What's your point?"

   "The point, Mulder, is that you never really wanted to leave the Bureau, did you?"

   "Scully - "

   " _Did_ you?"

   "No," he admitted.

   "And I think in your heart of hearts you always hoped you'd be able to go back there someday.  Probably when Sam was at school."

   "I - "  Mulder gave her a frustrated look.  "Dammit, I don't know!  I never thought about it in that much detail." 

   "Think about it now," Scully told him quietly.  "If you went back, where would you want to work, ideally?  Not with Patterson, that's for sure."

   "You _know_ where I'd want to work," he told her wearily.

   "And you know it would be impossible if we were married.  It would probably be impossible even now."

   "You think I'd change my mind about marrying you because of that?" he demanded.  "Dana, you're more important to me than the damn Bureau!"

   "I don't think that at all," she replied steadily, "but I think if we allowed ourselves to become carried away now, it could become an issue later.  If you want the unvarnished truth, Mulder, I think we don't know each other well enough yet to take such a big step as marriage.  There are probably other things that could be a problem between us that we simply don't know about yet.  We need time - time to get to know each other better, time to work out any potential difficulties. 

   "Which is why I said no.  I'm not turning you down forever, just for now."  Scully paused and looked at him searchingly.  He had that hurt little boy look on his face, not in a manipulative way, but simply because that was how he felt.  He was probably still feeling rejected, but there wasn't much she could say that would change that. 

   The silence built between them for a few minutes until Scully finally realised that Mulder wasn't going to say anything else.  Her shoulders slumped and she reached for her coat.  "I'd better go home."

   She reached the door before a miserable voice said, "Scully - don't go .... "

   Scully paused and sighed inwardly.  For the first time, she began to wonder just how needy Mulder might really be.  Her mother had observed that he wasn't as independent as he seemed, and although her mother didn't even particularly know Mulder, Scully had to wonder just how right she was.  Emotionally, he was difficult to fathom; although he maintained a wall of glib, black humour and apparent unconcern, underneath he was a seething mass of insecurities.  Although he would undoubtedly deny it, his proposal to her was almost certainly a part of this; it wasn't just his old-fashioned streak prompting him to do things the 'right' way, but some desperate need to know that he wasn't going to lose her.

   And Scully, already strung out and tormented by one possessive lover, began to wonder what she was getting herself into.  Jack Willis was prompted almost entirely by alpha-male ideas of ownership; Mulder would never be so arrogant, but his need for reassurance might prove just as selfish and insidious.

   Or it might not.

   There was only one way to find out.  She turned around with a sigh, and looked at him.  "Mulder, we've got to get past this," she told him quietly, but with a determined note in her voice.  "You've got to realise that just because I said no, it doesn't mean it's all over between us.  And you've got to get used to the idea that I'm not going to walk away from you."

   He twitched.  "I never - "

   "You didn't have to say it," she interrupted gently, "but it's definitely there, believe me."  She walked back to him and reached up, gently pulling his head down until their foreheads were resting against each other.  "I'm not Phoebe, you know," she told him conversationally.

   Mulder breathed a tiny, shaky laugh.  "No, you're not."

   "I'm not going anywhere.  We have plenty of time."

   "Don't go."

   Scully drew in an exasperated breath.  "Mulder - "

   "No, I mean don't go tonight.  Stay here."

   "I'm not going anywhere.  Not even tonight."

XXXX

   The countdown to Christmas had started, as far as Scully was concerned, when her mother announced that both her brothers had confirmed they would be coming home for the holiday, complete with wives and families.  That meant two things to Scully: firstly, that she wouldn't have to worry about buying the kind of presents which could be trusted to the mail; and secondly, that she would have to get shopping now and that the choice had consequently become more difficult now that she couldn't use weight constraints as an excuse.

   On top of that, she had to get presents for Mulder and Sam.  Which meant a trip to the mall.  In the end, Scully scooped up her sister and made what she hoped would be a flying visit there the last Saturday before Christmas.

   In the event, of course, it wasn't nearly that quick and simple.  She and Melissa spent hours trawling in and out of various stores, looking for that perfect gift, and once they got into the toy shops - filled with shrieking, squalling children - all hope seemed lost.

   "Doesn't it make you want one of your own?" Melissa said sarcastically at one point, firmly detaching a fair-haired toddler who apparently thought her knees were a climbing frame.

   Scully looked wry.  "I can only assume that you must feel differently about your own kids."

   "Or your boyfriend's," her sister suggested, amused.

   "You make Mulder sound like someone a bit shady, who I met behind the school bike sheds," Scully told her irritably.

   "Meeting him in a cheap motel in Oregon, during a UFO investigation, _isn't_ shady?"

   "It was not a UFO investigation!"

   "We're drifting from the point here," Melissa said.  "The fact is that you're quite besotted with that guy's kid.  It's got to be love, because you only tolerate Bill Junior's boys."

   Scully grimaced.  "Matt and Jimmy are spoiled, Missy.  Even Mom admits that she's not looking forward to spending three days with them _and_ the rest of the family.  I feel so sorry for Tara when they come over - every time she says no, Bill says something different.  The boys are never going to mind her when they get older.  They only take notice of me because they know I'll stand up to Bill if there's trouble."

   "Which is what Tara ought to do," Melissa pointed out, "although if she'd ever shown signs of standing up to him, Bill would never have married her in the first place."

   Scully couldn't disagree with that.  She hoped she valued all her family the way she should, but Bill was enough to make her scream.  Where the hell he'd got his attitude from, she couldn't imagine, but he was every inch the stern and unbending patriarch her father had never been.

   Not surprisingly, Bill Junior and his father didn't see eye to eye.  Scully had had a number of heated arguments with her father in the past when her views clashed with his, but she infinitely preferred the arguments to the stiff disapproval that he bestowed on his oblivious eldest son.

   "So Mulder is coming on Christmas Day?" Melissa broke in on her thoughts.

   Scully nodded, wondering if her sister knew about the 'situation' with Mulder.  She knew better than to ask her mother not to say anything, but hoped she'd exercised the option of saying nothing all the same.  Not that she minded Melissa knowing; so much as she feared Bill Junior or her aunts finding out.  "They're coming after lunch," she said.  "I think he's trying to minimise the excitement Christmas might give Sam, and seeing all our family unwrapping presents wouldn't be kind.  He'll be getting a lot of stuff at Chanukah after all, so obviously Mulder isn't giving him anything else."

   "But you are?"

   "I'm doing both, although it'll be something small for Chanukah.  Mulder and I agreed that, although he doesn't know I'm getting Sam a Christmas present as well."  She smiled at her sister.  "I've got an idea about that, but I need to talk to Ahab first.  The Chanukah present is the one I haven't solved yet ... this cross-festival gift giving is a problem!"

   "Hmm.  Oh, hey - how about this!"  Melissa picked up a small clockwork caterpillar made of wood.  It had five separate, rounded sections, big eyes and a pair of thick antenna, and when she turned it over, Scully could see that it ran on wheels. 

   "Sam would love that!" she exclaimed, pleased.

   Eventually they left the shop and tried hunting around for presents for the menfolk in their lives.

    "What kind of stuff does Mulder like?" Melissa demanded after about an hour, fed up of brooding around menswear stores.

   "Aliens," Scully told her absently.  She was staring at a rack of novelty ties, but something told her that even if he hadn't got one or all of these monstrosities, he probably didn't wear a tie much these days anyway.  And in any case, he didn't need encouragement in the bad-taste area.

   "Get him a copy of a sci-fi classic," was the impatient response to this.  "'Close Encounters' or something like that."

   "He already has most of them."

   "Tickets to a Planetarium?"

   "I think he already gets subsidised access because he's a lecturer," Scully replied doubtfully.

   "Sheesh ....  Then just buy yourself a new silk teddy and tell him to enjoy unwrapping his present!"

   "Melissa!"

   "We're going to be here all day and probably all night if you don't make your mind up, Dana," her sister complained.

   "Haven't you got to buy something for Chris?" Scully suggested pointedly.

   "I've already got his present," her sister shrugged.  "Anyway, I'm starving.  For Christ's sake, let's at least get something to eat before we go any further."

   Scully scanned the crowded mall doubtfully.  "We're never going to find anywhere in this crush," she observed pessimistically, and she was right.  Most of the cafes and fast-food bars were crowded to bursting point, and some even had growing queues outside. 

   "I know a place," Melissa sighed finally, "but whether you'll like it is another matter.  Let's get out of here - we can come back after lunch."

   The place in question turned out to be a tiny little New Age shop in a back alley, with a restaurant at the back of the store.  It was vegetarian of course, but Scully was hungry enough not to care and she had to admit that the mixed pepper salad with feta was delicious.

   They finished up with tea and slices of rich carrot cake, then took a look around the shop.  There was a surprisingly large second-hand book section where Scully was pleased to find a copy of the original 1970 edition of "Chariots of the Gods" that Mulder had been talking about a few days previously, and Melissa found a few chunks of crystal which she wanted; then they exited onto the street. 

   It was when they were passing the shop next door that Scully had a sudden brainwave. 

   It was a tropical fish dealer.

XXXX

   "Think he'll like it?"

   "God, I hope so! I haven't a clue what else to get him if he doesn't."  Scully stepped back to view the fish tank, and flipped a smile over her shoulder at her father.  "Thanks for letting me put them in here for now.  You're sure it's not a bother?"

   "Be something to look at."  Captain Scully stooped to peer at the Angelfish swimming languidly around their new, if temporary, home on his bookcase.  "Hell, if I get used to them, I may just get a tankful myself!"

   Scully chuckled, watching him affectionately.  "Ahab, if you ever feel the need for a fish tank, just let me know and I'll buy you one, but I'll make sure to fill it with toy boats, not fish.  You'd be much happier with those."

   "You may just be right."  He straightened up and gave her a reminiscent smile.  "We had fun on your grandmother's pond, didn't we?"

   Scully tucked her hand through his arm, nodding.  "Spent hours sailing that old boat of Bill Junior's - do you remember him breaking the mast and throwing it away?  You fixed it for me and we repainted it - "

   "And you renamed her 'Mary-Lou' after your rag-doll.  We had that grand christening with a bottle of Pepsi ...."  Captain Scully stared into space for a moment, then gave her a sudden, oddly saddened smile.  "I gave Bill's boys a boat each for their birthdays this year, you know."

   Scully did know.  "Mom told me."

   "They weren't really interested - didn't have motors," he said wryly.

   "Kids are different these days, Ahab," she said gently, irrationally angry with her elder brother - as if he could do anything about the fickleness of children, even his own.  But it hurt her to see the look on her father's face.  It would have been a slap in the face to him, that his grandsons weren't able to appreciate the toys he gave them, toys that had given their aunts and uncle so much enjoyment.

   "So ...."  Captain Scully quickly changed the subject, uncomfortable with too much emotion being displayed.  "Your mother seems to like this Mulder.  The boy certainly seems to be sound enough."

   Scully gave her father a sideways look.  "You met Sam?"

   He gave a soft hrumph of laughter.  "He introduced himself!"

   "Sounds like Sam!  He's not backwards in coming forward."

   "Marched in here like he owned the place."  But Captain Scully looked amused, and she wasn't surprised; he would like Sam's self-confidence and energy.  It was another disappointment in Bill Junior's boys, for they were both in awe enough of their grandfather that they would never consider entering his study, let alone uninvited.  "We chatted for quite a while."

   "Ah!  Did he tell you the saga of moving out of Grandma's house, or did he give you the life story of his Christmas tree?" Scully smiled.

   "Both."  Captain Scully chuckled reminiscently.  "I wondered though - I thought your mother told me they were Jewish.  What's he doing with a tree?"

   His daughter fought a losing battle to hide a soft smile.  She'd asked Mulder the same question, and he'd looked so guilty ....  "Sam wanted one," she shrugged, "and Mulder couldn't think of a way to explain properly to him - not that Sam really cares what it's for, he just wanted a tree with lights on.  And that's literally all it is!"

   Her father laughed at this, then patted her hand and released it.  "Come on, let's get that pump working before your mother serves up dinner."

   "Just a minute, Ahab - you've reminded me, I need your advice on something ...."

   Captain Scully raised a brow at his daughter, but allowed her to draw him back into the room.

XXXX

   "You'll be sorry you came," Mulder observed darkly, as he took Scully's coat the next day.

   "Why?" she smiled, amused at his expression.

   "He knows he's got a present," the long-suffering parent explained, "and he knows he'll get it after we light the candles, so he's been pestering me to light them all afternoon.  I had this all yesterday and the day before, too ...."

   Scully stifled a laugh.  "You'd better find me somewhere to put this quickly, then!" she told him, displaying a brightly-wrapped box.

   Mulder groaned in alarm and hastily stuffed it behind the coats hanging in the hall closet.  There was a sudden scrambling noise, and he barely shut the door before Sam came hurtling out of the living room. 

   "Day!"   He hurled himself at her, and Scully pretended to stagger, laughing.

   Another small face appeared around the edge of the door; a little girl with long dark braids who looked startlingly like a picture Scully had once seen of Mulder's sister, Samantha.  She saw the stranger, and retreated shyly.  Scully shot Mulder a look of surprised query, and his expression managed to become even more wry.

   "That's Sarah.  Annie's here," he explained.

   "Oh!"

   "Sam told her you were coming, and she doesn't think men can make latkes like Grandma could, so ...."

   Scully grinned.  Mulder's cousin Annie was clearly a woman after Maggie Scully's heart - although she'd kind of worked that out when she met her previously.  "Where is she?"

   "In the kitchen, doing something to a pile of potatoes with a grater - "

   Scully walked through to the kitchen, to be greeted effusively by Annie.  "I'm going to have to introduce you to my mother," she commented, accepting an invitation to take control of the grater.

   "Any time you like," Annie said cheerfully, as she searched the cupboards for a mixing bowl.  "Does she make latkes?"

   "I don't know, but she's always up to a challenge."  Scully peered at the heap of rapidly discolouring potato mush under the grater.  It looked vile.

   Annie saw her expression and laughed.  "I know, it looks terrible!  But it doesn't matter.  I hope you're handy with a frying pan, Dana, because you're going to have to cook these."

   "Me?!"

   "You don't think she's going to let me cook in my own kitchen, do you?" Mulder commented sourly from the doorway.

   "You - out!" his cousin retorted, waving a tablespoon threateningly.  "Do something useful, and wake my husband up.  The pair of you can take the kids out for half an hour while I show Dana Grandma's secret recipe."

   "The creaking sound you can hear is Grandma turning in her grave at Annie's cooking," Mulder advised Scully, but he wisely retreated all the same.  She heard mumbled conversation in the living room, and after a few minutes a tall blond man appeared in the doorway, wearing a similar expression to Mulder's.

   "We're taking the kids over to the park," he sighed.

   "Good," Annie said absently.  She was measuring flour carefully.  "Say hello to Dana."

   He grinned at Scully and rolled his eyes.  "Hello Dana!"

   "My husband, Simon," Annie said in an aside to Scully, and she made a shoo-ing gesture at him.  "Go on!  And no longer than half an hour, mind - don't forget we've got to get home before sunset."

   "Like I'll forget," he grumbled, and wandered off.

   "Men," his wife said acidly.  "No use at all!"

   Watching her energetic perambulations around the kitchen with a fascinated eye, Scully tried not to laugh.

XXXX

    When Mulder, Simon and the children returned, they found Scully flipping a latke in the frying pan with a fair appearance of confidence.  Annie was watching critically.

    "See?  Nice and thin," she was saying.  "There's nothing worse than a stodgy latke."  She looked around and caught Sam stretching up on tiptoe to see what was on the kitchen table.  "Here - try it out on Sam," she told Scully.

   "Proof of the pudding?" Scully asked humorously.  She dished up the pancake and watched as Annie spooned apple sauce onto it.

   "Here, Sammie, see what Dana made?"

   Sam didn't have to be asked twice.  In short order, there was nothing left but his sticky fingers and a splotch of sauce.  This was enough to lure shy Sarah into the kitchen with a protest of "Me too!"

   "You've got the hang of it," Annie confirmed to Scully with a nod.  Then she turned to her offspring, all three of whom were crowding into the small kitchen hopefully.  "No, kids, get your things.  Grandma Rosen's promised to make latkes for you later."

   "You aren't staying?" Scully said, surprised.

   "I'd love to, but we've promised Simon's family we'll be going there tonight.  I just wanted to make sure Fox didn't poison you!"  Annie threw Mulder a roguish look, to which he sighed exaggeratedly.

   "Strange how healthy Sam and I both are, considering how terrible my cooking is ... in _your_ opinion."

   "It's a mystery to me too," Annie agreed.  She took her coat and scarf from her husband and put them on, then gave Mulder a hug.  "Have a good party, and we'll see you and Sam tomorrow.  Dana, you're coming to us for dinner sometime soon, you hear?  And remember - keep the oil really hot!"

   Simon just gave Mulder and Scully a look of wry apology and bundled his wife and children out of the door.

   Mulder heaved a sigh of relief.  "Sorry about that.  She just _arrived_ and took over.  She has this urge to manage things."

   Based on some of the comments Annie had made while the men were absent, Scully suspected her motives were more ulterior than that, but she merely smiled.  "Do I make the rest of these latkes now, or do we wait until later?" she asked.

   Mulder glanced at the clock.  "We've got just over half an hour before we light the candles ....  Let's do them, it'll keep Sam occupied.  I'll give you a hand."

   "You can't cook," she pointed out mischievously.

   "Hah!"   He wrinkled his nose at her then made a quick grab for his son, who had climbed on a chair beside the kitchen table and was enthusiastically stirring the bowl of apple sauce with his hands.

XXXX

    "Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who hast sanctified us by thy commandments, and commanded us to kindle the light of Chanukah.  Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who wroughtest miracles for our fathers in days of old, at this season."

   The graceful silver Menorah, Mulder had told Scully, had been made by his great-grandfather in Holland at the turn of the century.  It was one of a pair that his grandparents had brought with them to the US when they emigrated just before the war; the other one was in the keeping of Annie's father, his Uncle Max.

   Having spoken the blessing, Mulder lit the shamas or 'servant' candle, taking care to keep both it and the taper out of Sam's reach.  The little boy was standing on a chair in front of him where he could get a good look at what was going on and Scully, standing to one side, smiled as she saw Mulder gently discouraging Sam's attempt to reach out and touch the flame.  She glanced briefly out of the window, across the street, and noticed interestedly that amid a myriad of windows decorated with fake snow and flashing lights was one other sporting a newly lit Menorah.  Mulder obviously wasn't the only observant Jew on the block tonight.

   Mulder had other things on his mind.  He lit the first candle from the shamas.  "We kindle these lights on account of the miracles, the deliverances and the wonders which thou didst work for our fathers, by means of thy holy priests.  During all the eight days of Chanukah these lights are sacred, neither is it permitted us to make any profane use of them; but we are only to look at them, in order that we may give thanks unto thy name for thy miracles, thy deliverances and thy wonders."

   For Scully's benefit he said the prayers in English, and secretly felt a little guilty for being grateful for that; he heard the Hebrew version every year when he visited his family for Chanukah, but hearing it and _saying_ it were two different things, and he wasn't sure he would remember the Hebrew correctly.  He lit the second and third candles, and carefully replaced the shamas in the central bracket of the Menorah.

   However, the following chanted hymn Mulder remembered quite well, it having always been a favourite part of the ceremony when he was younger.  To his surprise Scully joined in with this, which quelled any embarrassment he might have felt about his rather rough voice, and the hymn was rendered even more enjoyable by Sam happily humming an off-key accompaniment.  The significance of Chanukah might not mean a lot to him yet, but he knew a singalong when he heard one.

   Afterwards, Sam brought out his wooden dreidl to show Scully, and she produced a couple of bags of chocolate coins so they could play with it.  He pestered Mulder for his present, which reminded her of the parcel languishing in the hall closet, and as she was retrieving it she remembered the other, smaller package hidden in the pocket of her parka.

   "What, you thought I wouldn't get you a present too?" she said, seeing his look of surprise as she handed it over.

   "It's just ... I haven't got anything for you," Mulder replied, embarrassed.  "I was going to wait until Christmas Day."

   Scully seated herself back on the floor beside him.  "Yes you have.  You've already given it to me."  He looked at her blankly, so she pulled down the collar of her high-necked sweater and touched the locket he'd given her the night of the FBI ball.

   He flushed.  "I forgot that.  Did you ever open it?"

   "Not yet - "

   "Daddy, look!"  Sam had torn the wrapping-paper around his present to confetti and was trying to make the wooden caterpillar move by pushing it along the carpet.

   "No, sweetie, like this."  Scully found the discarded key in the mound of paper scraps and fitted it into the winding slot underneath the toy, giving it a couple of firm twists.  The caterpillar began to roll across the floor, nodding its head and chiming.  Sam shouted with excitement.

   Scully smiled and turned back to Mulder.  "You haven't opened yours."

   "Neither have you," he pointed out reasonably.  "After you."

   "No, I insist - after _you!_ "

   He sighed exaggeratedly, and began to peel the paper off.

   "It's only second-hand, I'm afraid," Scully confessed, "but you _did_ say you were looking for a copy, and that it had gone out of print."

   Mulder fingered the copy of "Chariots of the Gods" delightedly.  "Scully, where did you find this?  I've been looking everywhere."

   "I have my sources," she smiled, "although I can't imagine what difference the earlier edition makes ...."

   He looked up, eyes glinting wickedly.  "You'll just have to read both versions, then, won't you?"

   She gave him a look of mock-horror.  "I'll pass!"

   "So," Mulder said, putting the book to one side for a moment, "are you going to open that now?"  He nodded towards the locket.

   Scully fingered it, considering.  "Do you want me to?"  She hadn't forgotten that he'd given her the locket on the same evening he'd proposed.

   This point had apparently slipped his mind though, for he was giving her a bemused half-smile.  "Of course."

   "Okay ...."  Scully took the locket off and fumbled with the tiny catch.  "You didn't mean me to get into this, did you - Oh!"

   The locket only had one compartment for a photograph, and into that Mulder had put a picture of her, himself and Sam, taken some months previously when they'd gone to the park on the next block.  Scully was sitting on one of the swings with Sam on her lap, and Mulder was pushing them both.

   She looked up at Mulder, a startled question in her eyes, and he shrugged, smiling.  "Frohike gave it to me.  God knows when he took it - or even if he was the photographer.  He wouldn't tell me."

   Scully shook her head, smiling, and examined the picture again for a few moments before moving on to the other half of the locket.  On that was a very simple inscription: To Dana, love Fox.  She gave Mulder a sly sideways glance.  "'Fox'?"

   He reddened a little.  "There wasn't room for Mulder," he mumbled.

   "Uh-huh?!"   Scully grinned, but decided not to tease him any further.  She closed the locket carefully and fastened it around her neck once again.  Then she leaned across and kissed him, catching him by surprise.  "Thank you."

   For some reason Mulder reddened even more.  He made to scratch his head, but encountered the yarmulke and let his hand drop.  "You hungry?" he asked her abruptly, and suddenly he was on his feet and heading into the kitchen.

   Scully stared after him, bemused, then turned and encountered an equally quizzical stare from Sam.  "What was that about?" she asked him rhetorically in a soft voice.  The little boy took this as an invitation and climbed into her lap, planting a kiss on her chin.

   Scully shook her head, smiling, and let the matter drop.

XXXX

   "Where we goin', Daddy?"

   Mulder knelt in front of his small son, concentrating on the fine art of getting Sam's arms into the right sleeves of his coat and his hands into the attached mittens.  "You know where we're going.  We're going to tea with Dana's family."

   Sam's face lit up.  "Day!"

   "Yeah."  His father looked around, found the knitted woollen hat that matched the mittens and pulled it over the fine, tufted brown hair.  It probably wouldn't stay put for longer than it took to get him to the car, but that was better than nothing.  Finally he zipped the front of Sam's coat up and looked around him.  He picked up a brightly-wrapped parcel.  "Are you going to carry her Christmas present for me?"

   "Yes!"  Sam held out his arms and Mulder gave it to him.  "Try not to drop it, Sunshine."  He stood up and began to put his own coat on.

   "Daddy?"

   "Hmm?"

   "Why don' we have Kissmuss?"

   Mulder paused.  _He had to choose now to ask!_   "Because we have Chanukah."  Sam squinted up at him, perplexed, and he tried to think of a way to phrase it that the little boy would understand, without going into the birth of Christ in detail. "Christmas is a Christian thing, Sam, and we're Jewish.  Christians believe in God like we do, but they worship Him differently."

  _Probably not the explanation Rabbi Neuberger would give him,_ he thought ruefully, _but hopefully it'll do for now._

   Sam was happy with that, though, and was really more interested in getting into the car and going.  "Let's go!"

   Mulder shut the door firmly behind him and followed Sam's skipping figure down the passage and stairs and out to the car.  He had to admit to himself that he was a little nervous about this visit to the Scullys.

   _Be calm!_ he told himself sternly.  _How bad could it be?_   Unfortunately, he had an idea just how bad - Christmas being the season of family battles ....  _I've got to snap out of this idea that all families are as weird as mine,_ he thought.

   He strapped Sam into the back of the car, and got into the driver's seat himself, beginning to warm up the engine gently.  There wasn't any snow - yet - but it was still hellaciously cold and although he'd been out in the car once today, it had been standing long enough to become cold again.  He didn't much fancy a breakdown on Christmas Day.

   "Daddy!"

   "Yeah?"

   "The dragon," Sam stated, rather plaintively.

   "What - ?  Oh, Sam!  Why didn't you say before we came out?"  Mulder looked in the rear view mirror at his son, but the little boy merely looked puzzled at the question.  He sighed.  "Have you got the one I gave you?"  Sam nodded.  "Okay, wait here a minute.  I'll go get the other one."  He switched the engine off again, checked the handbrake _very_ carefully - Sam liked to fiddle with things - and hauled himself out of the car again. 

   This trip could have started out better ....

XXXX

   Scully had spent most of the day so far trying to avoid huge swathes of family.  She was almost beginning to regret having invited Mulder over today - aside from her own parents, her sister, her sister's new boyfriend, her two brothers, their wives and a few assorted children, there were her Aunts Maureen, Claudia and Rose, her Uncles Peter, Giles and Fredrick, and a handful of stray cousins.  It was a madhouse, and it had just occurred to her that coming from a rather different family situation, Mulder might not be prepared for this. 

   It was a bit late to put him off, though, and besides - she rather selfishly wanted him here, if only to provide a certain amount of leaven from the overwhelming Irishness of the occasion.  And she wanted him to get to know her parents, in any event.

   There were one or two sticky situations to navigate, though.  One was the aunts: having been balked of prey in the form of Melissa (who at lunchtime had crushingly announced over the goose and trimmings that she was absolutely, categorically _not_ getting married, ever), they were now desperate to size up "Dana's young man". 

   Scully winced at the idea of Mulder being referred to in those terms.

   Then there was her elder brother, Bill Junior, and the less said about that, the better.  He'd been sour ever since he, his wife Tara and their two sons had arrived three days ago.  Scully had actually been driven back to her own apartment until Christmas Eve; ever since her mother had told him about Mulder and Sam, he'd been making pointed comments.  God only knew how he was going to behave to Mulder's face.

   Scully was debating retiring to her room with a set of worry beads, but she didn't really have time.  When she'd once told Mulder she was a fully paid-up member of the Maiden Aunts' Society, she hadn't been joking - she'd been taking care of her brother's kids for years now when the family got together.  It felt like a full time occupation, and she was convinced the only reason her sister-in-law agreed to come for Christmas year after year was the relief of handing her kids over to good old Auntie Dana for a couple of days.

   She acknowledged the injustice of this thought even as it sprang to mind.  Scully was very attached to both her sisters-in-law, but she couldn't help feeling that Tara at least was 'taking pity' on her.  She was probably wrong, but Bill Junior's attitude was so indicative of this, that it tarnished her relationship with his wife. 

   No such accusation could be levelled at Charlie or _his_ wife, Melanie, fortunately.  Scully just hoped that her younger brother's good nature would balance out the elder's attitude when Mulder arrived.

   _Next year,_ she promised herself,  _if we're still seeing each other, Mulder and me - and Sam - are going to spend Christmas elsewhere.  Anywhere would be good, so long as it puts a few miles between Bill and me._

   Feeling a hundred years old, she chased the kids, including three younger cousins, out into the garden for half an hour to play ball with Charlie, and hid in the kitchen with her mother.  Half an hour of decorating trifles, with a bottle of sherry between them, suited her mood right now.

   Maggie Scully watched her younger daughter with amusement.  "Your father gave up an hour ago and locked himself in his study," she commented, handing Scully a dish of maraschino cherries, "and when your Aunt Rose got the playing cards out after lunch, Maureen decided she suddenly needed an afternoon nap.  Missy and Chris have gone for a walk."

   "I guess the rest are vegging out in front of the TV?"

   "Giles and Bill Junior are in the basement, playing pool."

   "Oh God ...."

   Maggie topped up her sherry glass.  "So when's Fox arriving?"

   "Mulder," Scully corrected, smiling.  "I'm not sure, but probably any time now."

   "Good.  Your father's looking forward to meeting him."

   "I'm glad someone is."

   Mrs. Scully's eyes met her daughter's for a pregnant moment, but all she said was "Well, your aunts are nearly dying of curiosity by now.  Given that he's tall, dark and handsome, he should get quite a good reception!"

   Scully smiled wryly.  "I don't think he knows what he's in for, so if he tries to escape, don't blame me."

   Her mother smiled - and cocked her head to one side, listening.  "That sounds like a car pulling into the drive now."

   Scully got up and went to look out of the window.  "It's them."  She pulled the door open and went out to meet Mulder.

   The impromptu soccer match going on in the garden had come to a temporary halt as Charles Scully went to greet the new arrivals.  Scully paused in the doorway for a moment, wanting to see what her brother and lover would make of each other.  It was difficult to tell from a distance, because she couldn't hear what was being said, but Charlie's smile was cheerful and she saw Mulder grin slightly as they shook hands.  There was a pause, some talk, and Charlie half turned, waving an arm at the kids who were standing a little distance away, watching.

   _Probably explaining what he's doing out in the freezing cold,_ Scully thought, aware of the bite in the wind.  She stepped out from the doorway and began to approach them unhurriedly.

   "....The hoop got blown down last spring, so we're trying soccer," Charlie was saying.  "It's better than being indoors at the moment, believe me."

   "I played soccer for a while at Oxford," Mulder observed casually.

   "Sounds like a volunteer!" Charlie grinned, and winked at his sister.

   "Don't you dare, Charlie!  Mom was about to call you all in, anyway; it's too cold out here."  She looked up at Mulder, smiling slightly.  "You're earlier than I expected."

   "Do you want me to drive around the block a couple of times?" he smiled back, raising a brow.  "I warn you, Sam will be _very_ put out."

   Scully looked through the rear door window and saw Sam staring back at her, his lower lip protruding rather obviously.  "He's looking pretty put out now, Mulder," she said, amused.  "Better let him out."

   "He's got something for you.  I just hope he doesn't crush it in the excitement ...."  Mulder opened the door and Sam scrambled out, all arms, legs and loud voice.

   "DAAAAAAAY - "

   His father winced.  "Keep it down, Sam - "

   Scully braced herself for impact as Sam hurled himself at her, and scooped him up in her arms, then submitted with every appearance of enjoyment to a very wet kiss.  She wasn't given long to enjoy it, though; seconds later, Sam was wriggling out of her grip and racing for the side door of the house where he could see Mrs. Scully was standing.  His greeting to her was even briefer, and he disappeared inside almost immediately.

   Mulder gave Scully a mute look, and she gave a little snuffle of laughter.  "I guess he knows where he's going, Mulder!"

   "The _nerve_ of the little tyke - !" 

   Mrs. Scully was also laughing as she joined them.  "I know where he's gone," she chuckled, and exchanged knowing looks with her daughter.

   "Dad's room?" Scully asked and her mother nodded, amused.

   "He'll be disappointed, though; your father's locked the door."

   "That won't stop him," Mulder said, alarmed.  "He'll hammer on the door until someone opens it.  I'd better - "

   "Leave it," Scully interrupted, smiling.  "Dad won't mind in the slightest - he likes Sam."

   Not sure what to say to this, Mulder wisely let it go. "I'd better bring his thing in - he'll never forgive me if _I_ give it to you, but I don't feel like trekking out to the car when he finally remembers it."  He rummaged around on the back seat of the car and came out with a long, knobbly package wrapped in assorted fragments of Christmas paper.

   Mrs. Scully gave it an experimental poke, and gave Mulder a knowing look.  "Is this what I think it is?"

   "I couldn't possibly comment," he said, straight-faced, and quietly slipped a much smaller, squarer parcel into his jacket pocket while Scully wasn't looking.

   "Come on, let's go inside everyone," she said, shuddering.  "The wind's like a knife."

XXXX

   Scully reflected that Mulder had probably arrived at the best time of the day, all things considered.  Her sister was missing; the more objectionable of her two brothers was otherwise occupied, along with the most irritating uncle; the nosiest aunt was taking an afternoon nap; and the rest of the adults were bickering around a card table in the living room. 

   Having confiscated his jacket, she dragged Mulder through to meet her father, while her mother and Charlie attempted to occupy five restless kids ranging in ages from six to thirteen.

   Captain Scully was enjoying himself.  As Scully predicted, he hadn't minded in the slightest when Sam had knocked imperiously on the door of his study, and no sooner had the little boy been let in than he'd homed in on the aquarium in the corner.  They were currently identifying the fish together, with the aid of an encyclopaedia from Captain Scully's bookshelf.  Sam was standing on a chair, where the captain held him warily.  The boy was too energetic to be trusted on a wobbly chair by himself.

   "That one there's a catfish," he pointed out now.

   "Ca'fish," Sam repeated, peering into the tank.  "Why?"

   "Because he's got whiskers like a cat - see?"  Captain Scully showed him the picture in the book.  "And you know what?  He's a kind of shark.  Do you know what a shark is, Sam?"

   "Iss got teeth an' eats people," Sam nodded, with gruesome enjoyment.  "Do ca'fish eat people too?"

   Captain Scully chuckled.  "No, he's not big enough!  Look - what's that one there, then?"

   "Angelfiss," Sam said, pressing his nose against the cool glass.  "Swim, swim, swim ...." he murmured, watching the delicate fins waving in the water.

   "You've stolen my thunder," Scully said from the doorway.  When Captain Scully looked up, she was smiling and behind her was a tall, dark man who needed no further identification; the resemblance between him and the little boy ogling the fish tank was unmistakable.  He straightened up

   "Well," Captain Scully said amiably.  "You must be this Fox I keep hearing so much about."

XXXX

   When Mulder emerged nearly an hour later, there was no sign of Scully or his son.  He went looking for them and found Mrs. Scully in the kitchen with Sam.  In the centre of the table was the egg-box dragon the little boy had laboured over for several days (with some help) to give Scully, and the heap of wrapping paper it had needed was in the process of being smoothed out and folded carefully, presumably for re-use later.  Mulder watched for a second or two, with some amusement, as Mrs. Scully held each piece of paper down so that Sam could press the creases out.

   True to form, the kid was showing _no_ signs of tiredness yet, despite having had an exciting day so far.

   Then Mrs. Scully looked up and smiled.  Mulder came a little further into the kitchen.  "He's not bothering you, is he?  Can I take him off your hands?"

   "You dare!" Maggie Scully told him.  "While I'm in here with Sam, I won't get dragooned into playing gin rummy."

   Mulder chuckled.  "All the same - "

   "Daddy look!" Sam commanded, interrupting them.  He dragged a box over the table and pointed inside.  "Look what Day gived me!"

   Mulder grinned at Maggie, and peered into the box.  It was a boat; not quite a foot in length, it had two masts and sails, and when Mulder very carefully lifted it out of the box, he could tell that it was made of wood and had a proper lead keel.  It was a proper little ship, intended to be sailed on a pond, with a dark red hull and crisp white sails.  There was even a tiny red pennon on the main mast, and when he turned the boat around Mulder saw that although there was a space on the stern for a name, it was blank and ready for its new owner to name it.  A long length of waxed twine had already been attached to a ring on the prow, ready for its first venture onto the water.

   "Hey, Sam, this is really cool!"  Mulder fixed his son with a stern eye.  "Did you thank her?"

   Sam nodded, unimpressed by the implied threat, and patted Maggie's hand imperiously.  "More paper please," he stated clearly, and Maggie pretended to stand to attention.  "Yes, Sir!"

   "Is Scully - Dana - around?" Mulder asked her.

   "I think she went up to her room," Maggie replied, after a moment's hesitation.  "Go take a look, Fox - upstairs, first on the left."

   He hesitated, then followed her instructions.

XXXX

   She was in her room, sitting in the window seat, and when Mulder knocked on the door she smiled a welcome.  It was a rather melancholy expression though and Mulder, taking a seat beside her, was uncertain at first what to say.

   "I didn't get a chance to thank you for the fish," he said, after a moment's silence.  "I've been trying to think what I could put in the living room to liven it up a little - I'm not good with houseplants, and the room's a little small for pictures.  And I'm not into art anyway.  An aquarium never occurred to me, though."

   Scully gave him a small smile.  "It was a spur of the moment idea," she admitted.  "I was pretty much at a loss what to give you."

   "You didn't have to give me anything," he said softly.

   "I know.  But I wanted to."

   Another pause.  Then Mulder remembered, and handed her a square, heavy-ish package in gilded foil wrapping paper.  "Tit for tat," he smiled.  "Merry Christmas."

   "Muld-er ...."  Scully smiled, and gave him a mock admonitory look.  "You've already given me this beautiful pendent - " she touched the locket in the hollow of her throat, "you didn't have to give me anything else."

   "That wasn't a Christmas present.  This is.  Go on, open it!"

   After a moment, Scully peeled the wrapping off and found an old book.  The cover was worn, tooled leather, dark and anonymous, and when she looked at the spine, the title had been rubbed off with age.  But when she carefully opened the front cover, releasing a familiar musty smell of old paper, her eyes widened.  "Mulder!  How did you know "Moby Dick" was my favourite?

   He shrugged, pleased by her reaction.  "I heard you call your father "Ahab" once or twice, and leapt to one of my infamous Spooky Mulder conclusions."

   "Good guess - he used to read this to me when I was a kid."  Scully ran a loving hand over the covers.  "It's not a first edition, is it?"

   "Second.  They had a first edition, but I thought you'd prefer a copy that actually had its covers and most of the pages," was Mulder's wry reply, and Scully chuckled softly.

   "I should thank you for the boat you gave Sam, too," Mulder continued after another brief pause.  "He's really pleased.  You'll come with us when we launch it, won't you?"

   "I might even know a really good pond for it," she smiled. 

   "Somewhere not too deep, because if there's any water around he'll jump in it and then I'll have to jump in after him .... "  Mulder trailed off, because it was obvious Scully wasn't getting into the spirit of this conversation.  "What's bothering you?" he asked softly, studying her face.  She'd been so cheerful when he and Sam had arrived, but now she was the complete opposite.  Despite her delight over the book, and Sam's enjoyment of his present, she looked almost miserable.

   "Oh, it's nothing!"  Scully tried to force a smile, but he wasn't fooled.

   "You don't have to tell me," he began carefully, "but - "

   "Mulder, really ...."  She sighed, and stared out of the window for a moment.  When she turned back to him, her expression was a little wry.  "I had a spat with my brother while you were talking to Ahab.  It's nothing major - Bill and I are always fighting.  He gets a little much after a while, and I have to scream."

   "All the same ...."  Mulder wasn't sure how to proceed.  He didn't have much personal experience of sibling spats, but this didn't look like just a minor matter to him.

   "He just said a few things that touched a raw nerve.  He has a gift for it." 

   Mulder made no reply, but raised a questioning brow, and Scully acknowledged that he was not going to be put off with half stories.  Perhaps it was as well.  They were going to have to have this conversation at some point, and there was never going to be a good time for it, as her mother had pointed out recently.

   "Mulder ....  Look, he was laying down the law as usual.  Bill has ... some funny notions about Missy and I, and he's not afraid to express his opinion.  And Bill is always right."

   Mulder considered this.  "I haven't met him yet, but surely ... well, if anyone has a right to express an opinion about you and your sister, isn't it your father or mother who should be doing it?"

   Scully smiled in spite of herself.  "They do, when they really feel it's necessary, but they don't like to interfere.  Bill, on the other hand, doesn't see it as interfering.  Actually, I'm glad we're having this conversation now, because when you do meet Bill, you need to know that he's the ultimate authority on anything."

   Mulder's eyes began to twinkle.  " _Anything?_ " he drawled.

   "And everything," she confirmed.  "Just ... don't argue with him, Mulder.  It's a hell of a lot easier to let him think he has the last say, and everyone will bless you for not setting him off.  He's almost certain to try and draw you out on your politics, for a start, and whatever you say, he'll take the opposite position."

   "Nice guy," he commented, beginning to grin.  "So, what did he say to get you mad?"

   Scully's smile abruptly vanished.  She should have known better than to try a diversionary tactic with Mulder; he always came back to the original point of the conversation eventually.

   "Well, he started on you for a start," she told him, deciding that frankness was the best approach at this stage.

   "He won't be the first," Mulder observed philosophically, "although it's kind of cheeky when we haven't even been introduced yet.  What particular detail gets his goat?"

   "You're divorced."

   "Ah!"

   "And you're Jewish, although he didn't actually say that."

   "Mixed marriages?"

   "Something like that."  Scully took a deep breath.  "He was good enough to tell me that the mixed marriage bit was less of a problem than the divorced bit, though."

   Mulder's brow furrowed.  "Go on.  I would have thought the mixed marriage would have been a bigger problem, because of raising the kids one way or the other, but - "

   She sighed.  "Mulder - that was what he meant.  I ... I can't have children."  She looked away and hurried on.  "Actually, I'm not putting this very well - "

   "Scully - "

   "His problem was with Sam, you see - he thinks I'm making a grab at motherhood whatever way I can, and - "

   "Scully!"  Mulder grabbed hold of her hands.  "Hold up a minute!"  He took a shaken breath, and tried to decide what to say.  "Back up a little - I thought you just said - "

   "I can't have children," she repeated, and tried to tell herself that it was no big deal, that she'd known for several years, and shouldn't be getting emotional about it now.  Then she looked at Mulder and saw the stricken look on his face.  She tried to smile.  "Mulder, really - it's no big deal anymore."

   "No big deal, she says."  He tried to get a grip on himself, but it was hard to know what to say.  "How long have you known?"

   Scully shrugged.  "Since my late teens.  I always had a problem with my - "

   "Uh-huh."

   His discomfort over 'woman stuff' made her smile inwardly, but she continued.  "And eventually I had a whole battery of tests.  There's something wrong with my ovaries and fallopian tubes, and the chances of conceiving naturally are pretty much non-existent.  It didn't bother me at the time.  It doesn't now, really."

   _Liar,_ he thought, but he chose not to challenge her on that.  "Scully ....  I don't know what to say really.  But are you telling me your brother actually threw that in your face?"

   "He thinks he's doing her a favour," a dry voice said from the doorway.  Melissa Scully walked in and pulled her heavy outdoor coat off, tossing it across one of the twin beds.

   "Missy, let it go," Scully said uncomfortably.

   Melissa ignored her, looking at Mulder.  "Bill thinks Dana is a great nanny for his kids.  He'll hate you, because you've got a kid of your own - after all, Dana should accept her fate and not go hankering after what she can't have when she's got nephews she can dote on."

   "Melissa!"

   "Speak the truth and shame the devil, Dana."

   Scully rolled her eyes.  "He's not _quite_ that Victorian."  She gave Mulder a wry look, her normal good-humour beginning to re-emerge.  "God knows what kind of image you're getting of Bill Junior, Mulder - really, he's just got an attitude, and after a while he starts to look like a caricature of someone worse."

   "Ignore her," Melissa told Mulder.  "He's an ass - a pompous ass."

   "You're only saying that because he made fun of your crystal ball."  Scully got to her feet.  "Come on, you guys.  Mom's going to wonder what's going on up here."

   Mulder looked at her face and saw her fixing her walls in place, but now was no time to challenge the change of subject, not with her sister present.  He got up reluctantly.  "We'll talk about this again some other time," he said to her softly as they walked down the stairs.

   Scully nodded reluctantly.

XXXX

   It took about half an hour of listening in a half-hearted way to the adults talking, before Sam became bored enough to get restless.  After they'd finished putting the wrapping paper to rights, Mrs. Scully had assembled a tea tray and taken it through to the various family members playing cards.  Sam had gone with her, and for a short while had enjoyed being cooed over and admired, but now he was looking for something else to do.  Day had given him a present, a really good wooden boat that was red with white sails and had a string to pull it along by, but now everyone had seen it and they didn't seem to be terribly interested anymore.

   Sam knew someone who hadn't seen it though, someone he knew would be interested.  He wriggled off Mrs. Scully's lap, clasping the boat to his chest with both arms, and trotted quietly out of the living room.  No one paid a great deal of attention to where he was going; there wasn't much trouble he could get himself into without an adult being near to hand.

   Outside in the entrance hall, it was quiet.  He paused to look at the evergreen boughs decorating the walls, entranced by the little sparkling ornaments hanging from them, then continued on to his destination.

   The door was closed again when he found it, but shut doors were never a problem for him unless they were locked; and in that event, Sam had discovered that shouting to be let in or out was a pretty effective approach.  He gave it an experimental push, but it was definitely shut.  So he put his boat down on the floor carefully - he was always very careful with his toys - and stretched up until his fingers reached the handle and pulled. 

   The door unlatched very nicely and opened up a few inches.  Pleased, Sam picked up his boat again, and pushed his way inside.  Peering around the edge of the door, he could see Day's daddy sitting at the desk, and rushed over to show him his boat.

   Captain Scully never moved, though, and that seemed a little odd to Sam, because the latch on the door had made quite a lot of noise when he'd opened it.  Adults were, in his experience, pretty quick to react when he made a noise, even when he tried to be really quiet.

   Okay, maybe he hadn't heard.  "Cap!" he said hopefully.  "Cap" was the best he could manage for "Captain", which was what Day's mommy had called him.

   No response.  Sam shifted from one foot to the other, trying to work this out.  The boat was getting a little heavy, so he decided to put it down.  Then he walked hesitantly over to Cap's chair. 

   "Cap?"

   Then he saw that Cap had his head on the table.  Maybe he was asleep; when Sam got tired at day-care, Mandy would let him sleep on the table sometimes.  But Cap didn't have a cushion to lean on, and Sam knew how uncomfortable that was.  He moved a little closer, to see if Cap really was asleep.

   He wasn't.  His eyes were open, and they moved a little when Sam came into view.  But his face looked funny to the little boy, and he made a strange croaking noise. 

   Something wasn't right.  Sam hesitated, unsure what to do, then turned and ran out of the room.

XXXX

   Mulder had paused in the hallway to admire the same evergreen boughs his son had, when Sam came hurtling out of Captain Scully's room.

   "Hey, hey, hey!" he said sharply, catching the boy.  "No running, Sam - you could hurt yourself or someone else."

   But Sam had other things on his mind, and tugged at his father's arm insistently.  "Daddy, come see."

   "Not now, Sam.  It's nearly time for tea - show me later."

   "No, Daddy!   Come see _now_ ," Sam said firmly.

   "Sam ...."  Mulder sighed.  "Come see what?"

   Sam seized his hand and all but dragged him out of the room and down the hallway.  Mulder's brow knitted when he found himself being pulled into Captain Scully's study - then he saw the man at the desk and the way he was slumped over. 

  1. "DANA!  Sam, go get Day!  Go on, run!"



   Sam, his eyes wide, turned and scampered from the room, but Scully had heard Mulder's shout and came running, with one of her brother's close on her heels.  She took one look at her father, and turned on Charlie. 

   "Charlie, get my bag from my room NOW."

   Mulder was gently leaning Captain Scully back in the chair, loosening his collar and feeling for a pulse.  "He's still with us, Scully, but the pulse is weak - "

   "Is he breathing?"  She was already checking as she spoke, and answered her own question.  "Just about ....  Dad - Ahab - can you hear me?"

   There was a cry from the doorway; Mrs. Scully. 

   "Mom, call for the paramedics," Scully told her, without turning.  "Tell them he's having a heart-attack - "

   Charlie reappeared and had to fight his way through the sudden crowd of Scully relatives who were gathered outside the door, babbling questions.  Scully snatched the bag out of his hands and began to rummage in it frantically.

   "Scully, I think - I think he's stopped breathing - "

   The bag was equally quickly thrust back into Charlie's hands.  "Let's get him on the floor.  Charlie, there should be a bottle of diamorphine in there.  Find it."

   "You're not going to be able to help me lift him," Mulder said sharply.  "Someone bigger ...."

   "Here," a voice said curtly, and a bulky but younger replica of Captain Scully appeared.  Mulder had no idea who he was, and didn't really care. 

   "You get him that side ....  Lift - " 

   They laid him flat and Scully pushed them both out of the way, beginning CPR.

   "Has someone called an ambulance?" Mulder heard the other man say sharply above his head.

   "They're on their way ...." Mrs. Scully's voice faltered in the background.

   "How long has he been like this?"

   "It can't have been long," Mulder interrupted, seeing the distress on Maggie's face.  "I only left here about twenty minutes ago, and he was fine then."

   "Mulder, can you take over from me?" Scully gasped.

   He nodded and took her place, ignoring the other man's glare and sharp comment of "Who is he?"

   "Shut your mouth, Bill.  Mulder found him; and if he hadn't, Ahab would probably be dead."  Scully's voice was measured and even, but the lash of anger was still unmistakable.  She looked around at the doorway, wondering if her mother had managed to get the paramedics, and saw a tight crowd of relatives outside the door.  Her eye fell on Sam, who was clinging to the doorpost with one hand, with his thumb in his mouth.  His eyes were wide and frightened.

   She nearly swore.  This was not something any of the kids needed to see.  "Will someone _please_ exercise some sense and take Sam and the other kids out of here?"

   Her sister pushed through the gaggle of cousins, white-faced, and quickly snatched Sam up, carrying him away.  Scully turned back to Mulder, and tapped his shoulder.  "Lean back, Mulder, and let me take a look - "

   There was a tense pause as she checked respiration and pulse; then she let out a shaky sigh of relief.  "Okay - he's holding in there.  Now, where's that Goddamned ambulance?"

   As if her words were a cue, Mulder heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance, and let out his own sigh of relief.

   With a little luck, there might just be _one_ miracle this Christmas.

XXXX

   It was nearly one in the morning when Mulder heard the knocking at his door.  Casting a wary eye over the bundle of blankets on the sofa that was Sam, he went to the door and answered it.

   It was Scully, her face lined with exhaustion.

   "You look a wreck," he said softly, in an undertone.  "You haven't been at the hospital all this time, have you?"  He didn't know how to ask the most important question, but fortunately she made it unnecessary.

   "He's in the ICU now, and he's stable and comfortable," she told him, shedding her coat.  "They kicked everyone out but Mom a couple of hours ago.  I went home with Missy to organise the house, but my sisters-in-law have got everything covered."  A brief flash of her usual humour showed.  "First time they've agreed on anything this Christmas - usually they fight like cats, but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth right now."

   Mulder gently steered her into the kitchen and dug out his tin of cocoa.  "Was it a heart-attack?" he asked, busying himself with the kettle.

   The strain and worry reappeared on Scully's face almost at once.  "It was - they're not sure about the extent of the damage yet, but it was big."  Her voice cracked slightly.  "Thank God you found him, Mulder - he would have died for sure if we'd been even two or three minutes later."

   "Thank Sam, not me; he found your father, and had the sense to fetch me when he thought there was something wrong."

   "Oh God - Sam!  - Is he okay?  He saw everything that happened ...."

   "He's fine," Mulder cut in gently.  "A little clingy and scared, maybe.  He's sleeping on the couch right now, because he kept waking up earlier, but I think he's sound enough asleep to be put back to bed in a minute."

   Scully relaxed back into her chair at the kitchen table, but the worry didn't leave her face.  "Mulder, I'm so sorry ...."

   "For what?"

   "I wouldn't have had Sam see that for the world, but - "

   "Scully!"  Mulder added hot water to the cocoa and put a mug in front of her.  "It's no big deal; he's pretty resilient, you know.  Besides, think what would have happened if he hadn't found your father."

   Scully's face suddenly crumpled, and Mulder cursed himself for his lack of tact.  He quickly put his own mug down, and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her.  She was resistant for a moment, then buried her face in his shoulder.  Mulder rubbed her back soothingly, much as he did Sam's when his son was upset, feeling her much smaller body shake convulsively for several minutes; then she pulled free again, pretty much as he expected she would, and rubbed a hand over her eyes. 

   She gave him a wavering smile, a little embarrassed.  "Sorry - I didn't mean to turn into a waterfall on you."

   Mulder shook his head silently, but respected her need to be in control of the situation.  "It's okay ...."

   "Look - I'd better just ...."  She waved a hand uncomfortably, aware that her mascara had streaked, and he smiled. 

   "Bathroom's where it's always been."

   She nodded, her smile wavering a little, and slowly went to clean her face up.  A few minutes in the bathroom also helped her get a grip on herself and reassert a little self-control.  When she emerged, she felt better than she had since Mulder had shouted for her help that afternoon.

   When Scully returned to the kitchen, it was to see Mulder holding Sam on one hip while he prepared a glass of milk and put it in the microwave.  She paused for a second, just out of sight, watching.  Sam was sprawled bonelessly against Mulder's shoulder, probably half asleep, and she could just about hear Mulder murmuring softly to him, although the words were impossible to hear.

   _He is such a good father,_ she thought, and felt a sudden pang of remembrance of the conversation she'd had with him earlier that day. 

   Then Mulder turned and saw her, and smiled.  "Look who's here," he said softly to Sam, and Scully smiled.  The boy gave her a sleepy smile and held a hand out, so Mulder surrendered him to her while he got the milk out of the microwave, tested it carefully and added a straw.

   Sam managed less than a quarter of it before he fell asleep again in Scully's lap.  The transfer to his crib was achieved with relative ease, and after a few minutes of watching the two adults left him to his slumber.

   Out in the living room, Mulder ran one hand over his hair in a reflexive gesture and looked at Scully.  "Will you stay tonight?"

   She gave him a weak smile.  "If it's okay."

   "Sure.  You look done in - why don't you go and get ready for bed while I clean up the kitchen?"

   For some reason this tickled Scully's sense of humour.  "You are sooooo domesticated, Mulder!" she told him, rubbing one hand affectionately over his chest.

   He grinned, catching her hand and stilling it.  "Yeah - I'm some catch, huh?"  Instantly he regretted saying it, for her expression was stricken.  "Scully, I didn't mean it like that - "

   "No, Mulder," she told him quietly.  "It's not you who should be apologising.  I obviously haven't dealt with this situation as well as I could, or we wouldn't be treading on eggs around each other."

   Mulder sighed and let go of her hand, turning away.  "No, it's not you - it's me."  He went into the kitchen, and after a moment Scully followed him.  He began slowly washing up oddments of china and cutlery, his expression troubled.

   "I don't handle relationships well," he said abruptly.

   "I wouldn't have said that myself."  Scully leaned back against the worktop, watching his face.  "I would rather say that you don't handle the ups and downs of relationships well.  It's not like you're some serial monogamist, always running away."

   "Yeah well, maybe ....  I could give you all the psychotherapy crap about my childhood affecting the way I look at relationships," he gave her a humourless smile, "but that's just looking for excuses.  All I can honestly say is that every relationship I've been in so far has gone wrong for some reason, and right now I keep looking around, trying to work out what's lurking around the corner for me _this_ time."

   "I can't say there's nothing, Mulder," she told him gently.  "I can't predict what's going to happen to us a month or six months down the line.  All I can tell you is that I want to be with you, and I'm doing all I can to ensure that I'll stay with you.  Okay, you jumped too soon and proposed, but that's not a crime; you've done nothing wrong.  At least now we both know we're thinking along the same lines and that we're committed to this.  More than that, what can I say?"

   "Not much," he admitted.  He rinsed Sam's milk glass and turned it upside down on the drainer, then dried his hands.  "It's just ...."  He hesitated.  "It's just when you told me today - "

   "I was afraid you'd think that," Scully interrupted, sighing.  "That's not why I turned you down, Mulder.  I've been looking for a good time to tell you about it, but it's not like there are ready opportunities in everyday conversation.  And then you sprang that on me ....  I still don't really know how you feel about it."

   Mulder turned out the kitchen light and gently steered her back to the living room sofa.  "I feel bad for you," he said.  "I don't know what else to say, actually, other than that I'm still astounded your brother can treat it in such a cavalier manner."

   Scully laughed softly.  "I can deal with Bill's attitude, Mulder, because it's just an irritation, an extension of how he's always treated Missy and me.  What irritates me more than anything is Tara's - his wife's - behaviour.  I hate being pitied."

   "I'll bear that in mind."  He leaned back against the sofa cushions, and grinned contentedly when Scully pulled her feet up under her and used his chest as a pillow.  He wrapped his arms loosely around her and felt her sigh.  "Scully ...."

   "Hmm?"

   "This problem ... you're not actually infertile, are you?  I mean, could you have IVF treatment or something if you wanted?"

   "Actually, yes," she responded, her voice a little muffled in his sweatshirt, "but I didn't want to scare you off."  And she gave him a gentle poke in the stomach, making him snort a laugh.

   "Nothing scares me, Scully."

   "Not even my father?"

   Mulder grinned, remembering his doubts when she first invited him to spend Christmas Day with her family.  And he recalled the conversation in Captain Scully's study, which had been more like a mutual sounding-out session than anything else; each of them trying to get the measure of the other without causing offence.  "Well ... maybe a little," he conceded, sensing rather than seeing her smile, "but I like him."

   "Good."  Her good humour melted away.  "God, I hope - "

   "He'll be okay," Mulder told her quickly.  "He's a tough man."

   "Yeah, but it's times like this when it's suddenly brought home to me that even tough old sailors are mortal."

   "Don't think like that.  You've got to be positive - he survived against some pretty stiff odds this afternoon, and now he has the best possible care.  He's going to be okay.  The doctors wouldn't have told you and your sister to go home if they thought otherwise."

   That was true enough, and Scully began to relax a little as she mentally reviewed all the treatments and precautions being used in her father's case.  Coronary care advanced in leaps and bounds these days and his room had looked, even to her experienced eyes, almost like something out of _Star Trek_ with the levels of technology commonly in use.  He couldn't possibly be in better hands, and her mother was with him.

   "I should be at home, making sure my sister isn't fighting with Bill," she mumbled sleepily.

   Mulder rubbed her back soothingly.  "No you shouldn't.  Your sister's a big girl; she can handle him herself.  Besides, it's nearly two a.m. and if they've got any sense, they'll be in bed."

   There was no reply; Scully had fallen asleep.  He smiled wryly, dropping a kiss on her hair, and dragged Sam's blanket off the back of the sofa to cover her with. 

   Morning  - and the everyday anxieties of real life - would come soon enough, dragging them apart again.  Meanwhile, if she was comfortable here, he was more than happy to play mattress for her for a few hours.

 

_~ finis ~_

 


End file.
